


What Defines You

by Kizmet



Series: Wounds:  Visible and In- [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Celestial's A+ Communicating, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Heaven & Hell, Lucifer's Fall, Pre-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizmet/pseuds/Kizmet
Summary: When the threat of Azrael's Blade prompts Michael to lead an assault on Hell the last thing he expected was for it to turn into a rescue mission.Now with Lucifer injured and incapable of fulfilling his duties in Hell, his siblings have to find a solution... Too bad they're still struggling to cover for Uriel's loss.
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & the Celestial Family, Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Wounds:  Visible and In- [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642639
Comments: 89
Kudos: 202





	1. The Edge of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> In the last story I didn’t bother with an “unreliable narrator” tag because everyone knows that any attempts to explain away Lucifer without acknowledging the supernatural are incorrect. This time out, don’t be surprised if some of Michael’s explanations are also an attempt to explain what he’s observed while he’s missing certain facts.

Michael stood outside the gleaming white walls of the Silver City guarding the Lesser Gates where the souls escorted up by Azrael stood in line waiting entry. His armor, reminiscent of the chainmail of old, was polished to a shine that competed with the walls and contrasted sharply with his night-dark wings, his sword hung prominently at his waist. He frowned forbiddingly at the ever increasing line of souls waiting for his review.

As the line crawled forward a soul from the L.A. area stretched up on his toes and squinted, trying to figure out what the minorly famous nightclub owner was doing in the afterlife. Then, after a second look, decided he’d been mistaken; the clean-shaven angel with curly, shoulder-length hair didn’t really look that much like Lux’s Lucifer Morningstar. “That one doesn’t look like he even knows how to smile,” the soul said worriedly to his neighbor.

The second soul tore her envious gaze away from the larger main Gate and souls who were freely entering it for a moment to give the soul who’d spoken a confused look. “I think I know why I’m here,” she whispered anxiously as her attention returned to the main Gate.

The soul at the front of the line shuffled up to Michael, eyes on the tops of his feet. “Look at me,” Michael huffed impatiently and snapped his fingers beneath the soul’s nose. Trembling the soul raised his head then sighed in relief when the Lesser Gates banged open as if kicked, drawing Michael’s attention away from him. A tall, broadly built angel with a proud nose and sharp cheekbones strode through the Gates hauling a soul along by the scruff of the neck. “This one was bragging about blowing up some church of a differing faith,” he said with disgust.

“Throw her in with the other missorts Gabriel,” Michael ordered impatiently. “I’ll tell Azrael what to pass along to Hell when she takes them down.”

The cluster of chained souls wailed in despair as Gabriel added his prisoner to their number and more than a few of the souls waiting in line shuddered fearfully. One brave soul raised her hand as Gabriel started back toward the gates. “Which church did he blow up?”

Michael rolled his eyes, “What does it matter?” he snapped. “Now where was I? Right, you,” he pointed to the trembling soul at the front of the line. “Tell me what you did in your life,” he commanded as soon as he’d caught the soul’s gaze.

The soul’s eyes glazed over. “I killed two of my best friends,” the soul said, as if in a trance. Then something seemed to break loose. “I was sixteen… Just like all of you. I’d gotten my driver's licence less than a week ago and I wanted to show off for my friends. I’d been driving with my parents in the car for over a year with my learners permit and I was sure I knew what I was doing,” there was a practiced rhythm to the soul’s speech, as if it had been given dozens of times before, but there was a determination to it as well that the first few words, prompted by Michael’s powers, had lacked. “We were talking and laughing. I was distracted and I ran a red light. An oncoming car crashed into my passenger side, killing both of my friends who were sitting on that side of the car. I lived, it would have been easier if I hadn’t.”

“Right, guilty due to manslaughter.” Michael pointed to the chained souls. Under his breath he muttered, “Why does Azrael keep wasting my time with this, they know where they belong.”

The line had progressed by another half dozen souls when Azrael herself landed with a flutter of dark grey wings. “I heard you’ve got another full load?” the slight angel said as she pulled up the hood of her dark red cloak.

“Were you dawdling again?” Michael accused. “You’re barely going to be able to handle this bunch in a single trip.”

“Dawdling?!” Azrael squawked. “Every minute I spend getting _nattered_ at by you sets me back days on the Mortal Plane. If I passed the Gates and actually spent any time with my siblings it’d take centuries to get caught up again!”

“You make work for yourself with your ridiculous bleeding-heart,” Michael replied coolly. “Father gave them the ability to feel guilt so that they could sort themselves, it’s not for us to second guess that.”

“Unless they lack proper guilt and we don’t want them here?” Azrael asked innocently. “Come on Mike, we all know about fanatics and psychopaths by now. Why is it so hard for you to believe that mistakes go both ways?”

“You’re too lenient,” Michael declared. “Nine out ten souls you bring to me for judgement are guilty and they know it.”

“Uri didn’t think so,” Azrael challenged. “Just because you don’t like the job that’s no excuse to half-ass it.”

“It’s not _my_ job,” Michael growled. “This isn’t the Purpose Father made me for.”

“Right, your Purpose is to stand around looking impressive while you wait for an invasion that’ll never come,” Azrael shot back. “You couldn’t drag Lu back here with a tractor-beam.”

“You’re still defending your precious Lucifer?” Michael sneered. “When we all know who’s fault it is that Uriel isn’t here. He ruins everything he touches. How much more does he have to do before you’ll admit it?”

“Right, it’s Lu’s fault Uri went nuts,” Azrael snapped. “Uriel stole my sword. Uriel went down to the Mortal Plane. You know it was Uriel who picked that fight with Lu, not the other way around. _Amenadiel_ says Uriel was threatening the life of Dad’s Miracle so what was Lu supposed to do? You just want to chuck everyone out and I’m wasting too much time, mortals dying every second you know.”

“Amenadiel fell, what does he know?” Michael growled.

“It’s pointless talking to you,” Azrael huffed.

“Wait,” Michael called before Azrael could sweep out with her charges. He pointed to the soul Gabriel had brought out. “That one has no doubt that she has the right to kill in Father’s name.”

“Ugh,” Azrael said. “Yeah, I’ll make sure Lu’s demons know she’s one of those.” Then she was gone in a flutter of dark feathers. Michael had barely turned back to the next soul in line when Azrael reappeared, her eyes wild. “Mike! I- I sensed my blade being drawn to the Infernal plane.”

“You were saying Lucifer couldn’t be dragged back here?” Michael asked sharply. “But why else would he be trying to reassemble the Flaming Sword again if not to cut through the Gates of Heaven?”

“We don’t know that!” Azrael protested. “It doesn’t even make sense! Why would Lu have split it between Universes if he wanted it?”

“You were right to bring this to my attention,” Michael declared as he closed the Gates. “After what he did to Uriel who knows what he’s capable of.” He folded his hands in prayer for a moment.

“What was Lu supposed to do?”

“Father didn’t stop Uriel, he must have approved,” Michael said dismissively.

“Yeah well, Dad didn’t stop Lu from destroying Uri so, by your logic, He must approve of what Lu did, right?” Azrael countered.

Michael glared at her sternly as Remiel appeared above the wall and landed next to them. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“We must head off Lucifer’s imminent attack on the Gates of Heaven,” Michael declared as he spread his wings. “Haniel’s readying our defenses if we fail to stop him preemptively.”

Remiel nodded and fell in behind him. They launched themselves into the air and vanished.

Azrael chased after them. “You’re just ticked because Lu stopped Mom from assaulting your precious Gates without any help from you!” Azrael cried as they appeared outside the Walls of Hell. “Stop jumping to conclusions! We don’t know why my sword’s being pulled here!”

“I won’t be surprised by what we find,” Remiel replied sharply. “Mayhap this is how Father intends to restore your sword, Sister. That would be one less thing out of place in this universe.”

“If we do get the sword back, I should keep it,” Michael declared. “Then I wouldn’t have to keep calling you to deal with the missorts.”

“Why don’t you ask Lu to freeze Hell over while you’re at it,” Azrael snapped. “The sword’s only for the most extreme cases, _Dad_ told me that himself back when he gave it to me. You’d send everyone you don’t _like_ to the Void.”

“Seeing the patterns of their lives isn’t my domain, it’s Uriel’s,” Michael complained. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Azrael winced. “I know. We’ve all been doing the best we can… Ever since Dad stopped talking to us.”

“Are we going to stand here all day?” Remiel asked with a gesture to towering, grey Walls of Hell.

The three angels spread their wings and vanished. They appeared on the other side of the foreboding wall a moment later. The narrow corridors and angular, door-covered towers of Hell extended all the way to the walls, in fact pushing the walls out as ever more space was required. Ash rained down on the three angels as they began trekking through the maze that was Hell. “Stay on the ground,” Michael ordered. “Flying we’re a tempting target for any demon walking below.”

As they ventured deeper and deeper into Hell swirls of Primordial Darkness joined the ever-present ash-fall filling the air. Remiel grinned viciously and trotted ahead, her spear leveled. “Remi,” Michael growled giving her a stern look. At his gesture the younger warrior fell back so that Azrael was between them.

Several eddies of Darkness combine into a ribbon as thick as an I-beam right before Michael’s eyes. “What’s that?” Azrael asked, drawing back in revulsion. _‘She’s not a warrior, she’s never seen it before.’_ Michael thought as he shushed his younger sister. _‘The streets are literally running with blood and Rae-Rae doesn’t have a clue.’_

“It’s demon blood isn't it?” Remiel asked excitedly.

_‘Remi only fought in the Rebellion because Amenadiel and I weren’t quick enough to stop her from jumping in,’_ Michael remembered. _‘But she’s not new anymore. Neither of them are.’_ Michael nodded. “This amount of blood, we’re walking into a civil war,” he cautioned his younger sisters. “Lucifer must have lost control of Hell. We need information, a living demon, but we need to be careful.”

“I could scout ahead,” Remiel volunteered. “I’d have a better chance of sneaking up on a lone demon by myself and you could protect Rae-Rae.”

“I’m the fricking Angel of Death, I don’t need protecting,” Azrael complained.

Michael raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Come on, Mike I’ve been training for this for eons,” Remiel pushed. “It’s what Father made me for.”

Reluctantly Michael nodded. “Don’t get out of ear shot. Don’t take on more than one demon,” he ordered.

“Yes sir,” Remiel replied sharply.

“Did you have to command her?” Azrael asked, wrinkling her nose.

Michael glanced away and didn’t answer. He hadn’t really meant to use his gift, one of the few to work on another angel, but he was worried.

Remiel prowled ahead, scanning the corridors on high alert. Then she cried out in triumph and darted down a side path. Michael chivied Azrael after her. They rounded the corner and saw Remiel standing over a demon with her spear at it’s throat. The ugly misshapen creature was slumped against one of Hell’s innumerable doors, its hands clasped over a gaping wound in its gut. Threads of Darkness seeped from between it’s fingers like blood.

“What did you do?” Azrael exclaimed, horrified.

Michael ignored her. “Good job,” he said to Remiel. Then he stepped forward to tower over the Demon threateningly. “What has happened?” he demanded, leveling his sword at the demon’s throat as well.

“Angels, feather-brains the lot of you,” the demon sneered.

“You will answer,” Remiel ordered, pressing her spear forward threateningly.

“‘M already dead,” the demon said. It’s hands fell away from it’s wound and the Darkness spilled out. In moments it’s body was gone, added to the swirling Darkness flowing through the corridors of Hell.

Remiel stared at the demon’s rapidly disintegrating corpse. “Weaklings like that couldn’t pose a threat to any angel,” she declared. “What is Lucifer’s game? Why hasn’t he put this down already?”

“But there’s so many of them,” Azrael said, worrying her lower lip with her teeth as she eyed the gaseous streams of demon blood flowing through the corridors. “Swarm decks are a thing for a reason guys.”

“We still need to find out why Lucifer’s trying to reclaim the Blade,” Michael said. “Azrael, if you have any idea where it’s being drawn to in the Infernal Plane, I’d like to get a move on it.”

“Yeah, I think...” Azrael took a deep breath and pointed.

Michael gestured for Remiel to scout ahead again while he glued himself to Azrael’s side. They moved out at a fast march. Several minutes later Remiel dropped back. “We’re headed towards that ridiculous spire Lucifer uses for a throne,” she said.

“No surprise there,” Michael said. At Azrael’s indignant look he added, “It’s the only reference feature in the whole damned realm, of course it’s the rallying point for anything that happens here.”

They pressed onward until suddenly the endless corridors of Hell opened up to reveal a narrow plain crawling with demons around the base of the spire. Michael’s breath caught at the sight of his twin’s once luminescent white wings spread unnaturally wide and streaked with blood where a half dozen demon blades pinned them to the shear wall of the spire leaving his feet dangling. A rift hung in front of Lucifer, a rippling mirage warping reality. “He was the last one to touch my blade,” Azrael said. “They’re using him as a focus to draw it back.”

“Rae-Rae get out of here!” Michael commanded, drawing his sword. When Azrael hesitated he barked, “Go now!”

Without further thought Azrael leapt into the sky.

“Hurry,” Michael said with a glance at Remiel, “We have to get Sam.” He waded into the horde of demons before the throne, heading straight to his twin slashing his way through any demons fool enough to stand in his way. Like the well-trained warrior she was, Remiel fell in at his side, she kept the demons off Michael’s back while he forged a path through the horde.

While Michael’s sword was tied up in a demon’s guts and Remiel was fending off four other attacks a giant creature with four arms threw itself at Michael. It’s sword was a crude bar of Hell-forged steel, better suited to bludgeoning than slicing. With both hands it raised the oversized blade, determined to reduce Heaven’s Commander to a smear on the ground. Michael charged forward carrying the demon impaled on his sword with him, his wings snapped out, gleaming like cut obsidian. The giant’s blade raised a shower of sparks off Michael’s armor as it glanced off his shoulder. Michael’s wings bisected the giant, throwing a massive spray of blood across the battlefield.

_‘We’re at war with Hell because Sam’s been deposed. My twin isn’t the enemy I was created to defeat!’_ Wings flared wide, dripping with blood that quickly evaporated into black smoke Michael threw back his head and laughed. “Come and get me!” he challenged. “This is what I was made for!”

The demons wavered in the face of Michael’s blood drenched joy. In that moment of silence a shriek of metal on rock rang out over the battlefield and all eyes turned to the base of the throne where Azrael was trying to free Lucifer. “That little idiot,” Michael muttered. Seeing the much less imposing angel trying to rob them of their deposed king the demon horde roared in outrage and charged. Michael grabbed Remiel by the shoulders and flew them to the base of the throne. “Thirty seconds,” he said as he left her to hold back the throng of attackers.

Michael turned to the throne just in time to see Azrael grab the two remaining Hell-forged blades pinning Lucifer’s left wing. She kicked off the vertical face of the spire and wrenched the blades free before Michael could stop her. The sharp sound of bone breaking was almost covered by a short, cut off scream as Lucifer’s weight swung onto the remaining blades, snapping the ulna and radius in his right wing. Azrael fell back, her hands covering her mouth. Michael shoved past her and braced his shoulder and extended wing against Lucifer’s chest then ripped out the remaining knives in quick succession, throwing them into the horde that Remiel was still holding back.

“I told you to go!” Michael shouted at Azrael as he roughly bundled Lucifer’s wings around him then grabbed his twin around the chest and leapt into the air. Azrael took flight a moment later. Remiel continued fighting, waiting until Michael had gained some altitude before following suit.

It wasn’t long before the air was full of projectiles. Michael pumped his wings, fighting for speed despite Lucifer’s awkward mass. Remiel dove at the demons beneath them, trying to scatter the forces arrayed against them. Then Amenadiel, Gabriel and four angels of the Fourth Tier were streaking past them, sending the crowd of demons into a panicked retreat. A few minutes later the ten angels arrived at the Gates of Hell. They pulled up for a moment then blinked out of existence and reappeared on the far side of Hell’s Walls.

Michael cursed as Lucifer regained consciousness and began struggling. Blood-slick feathers slipped through Michael’s grasp. Lucifer fell, somehow grabbing Michael’s sword as he did. He landed on his knees outside the Gates, wings falling limply around his shoulders. “Won’t catch me by surprise again,” he snarled at all of them, sword in hand, fire in his eyes.

“Samael! Give me back my sword and stop being an idiot. We’re rescuing you,” Michael snapped.

“Stay away from her!” Lucifer snarled, garnering confused looks from his siblings.

“What’s he talking about?” Gabriel asked.

“I don’t think he recognizes us,” Azrael interjected. “Humans get like that when they’re hurt.”

“He’s not human,” Remiel argued.

“Yeah well-” Azrael pointed at Lucifer, blearily blinking fiery eyes, snarling, Michael’s sword wavering in his weakening grip, as if to say, _‘You have a better explanation?’_

Amenadiel stepped forward, hands held up placatingly. “Luci, calm down. No one is threatening Chloe. We’re going to take you-“

“No where,” Lucifer interrupted with a maniacal grin. He flipped the sword so the blade rested against his own throat. “You’ll take me nowhere.”

A woman with Meditrainean features and the broad, ashy-brown wings of a crane appeared behind Lucifer. She calmly slammed the edge of her hand into the back of his skull, removing the sword from his hand and catching him in a smooth move.

“Raffie!” Amenadiel protested.

“Isn’t arguing with Sam when he’s in his right mind painful enough to dissuade anyone from trying it when he’s delirious?” the woman said, unrepentant. She turned to Michael. “You, take our brother to my infirmary. I’ll keep this,” she said with a nod to his sword, “until we’ve arrived, in case he wakes up again.”


	2. Not Working

The flock of angels burst into the Celestial Plane above the heads of the milling souls left outside the Gates, their fate yet to be determined. Seeing them from above, it hit Michael anew how much he had to do and how ill-equipped he was for the task. Uriel’s gift of patterns had allowed him to see, at a glance, what a human’s life had amounted to, what chains of consequence they’d set in motion.

When a mortal asked: “Did I do enough to make amends?” it was Uriel who had answered them, with authority. When they said, “But I begged forgiveness for my sins, I was promised a clean slate,” it was Uriel who had informed them that repentance without reformation was meaningless lip-service. It was Uriel who had been able see if a mortal had changed or if they’d simply gone through the proscribed motions out of fear of punishment. Michael could command a soul to tell him of their life but he couldn’t separate them from their biases. Concealment was so entrenched in some souls that Michael wasn’t able to command their confession, all he could do was decide that anyone that determined to hide themselves must be guilty. And it took considerably more than a glance for Michael to decide where these souls, incapable of judging themselves for one reason or another, belonged. They were only a small fraction of the total number of mortal passing away every day on the mortal plane but they arrived faster than Michael could clear them and so the line grew constantly longer. He glanced down at his unconscious twin and thought, _‘This is all your fault, Lucifer. You murdered our brother.’_

They recollected outside the Gates of Heaven for a moment. “I can’t go in,” Azrael said, biting her lip as she stared at Lucifer. “I’ll get too far behind.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Amenadiel promised.

“You’d better,” Azrael threatened, then spread her wings and returned to Mortal Plane.

“Samael’s injuries won’t treat themselves,” Rafael prompted impatiently.

Michael leapt back into the air, carrying Lucifer past the Walls of Heaven. Remiel and Amenadiel followed after him. They flew over the sprawling human ghetto that was constantly expanding the borders of Heaven, past a gentle ridge of misty hills to the oldest section, the Silver City, their home since the dawn of time. Rafael banked sharply toward a low white building surrounded by herbal gardens, her infirmary. Michael followed her inside and deposited Lucifer on one of the beds in her front treatment room.

As Michael laid him down, Lucifer’s wings splayed limply around him revealing his left arm was missing, the stark white of bone protruded grotesquely from blackened burned flesh several inches below his shoulder. Slightly lower, there was a deep slash across Lucifer’s ribs, also seared closed. Michael could easily picture the claw or blade slicing complete through his twin’s arm to lodge in his ribs. “You’re such a moron Sam,” he muttered, “Wearing your worthless suits while the armor that actually could have protected you is probably rusting in a box somewhere.”

“It’s no matter,” Rafael said as she plucked a downy feather from the inside of her wing. “I can start with that then move on to the wings. He’ll be right as rain in just a bit.” She pressed the feather lightly to the burnt stump that was all that was left of Lucifer’s arm and waited. For a moment her feather began to glow but a second later the light faded leaving Lucifer’s injuries unchanged.

Rafael frowned. “Maybe because it’s dead tissue,” she theorized. She moved to one of the open puncture wounds in Lucifer’s wings. “I suppose I can cut away the destroyed tissue then heal it.” She plucked another of her feathers and pressed it into the gaping puncture wound. Again the feather did nothing to repair the damage.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Rafael said. She plucked a third feather and held it up, focusing on the divinity within it until it was absolutely incandescent with celestial energy. Then she pushed that energy into Lucifer’s wounds… Where it dissipated uselessly.

“You make us trade feathers when we’ve been fighting,” Amenadiel said as he unfurled his wings. “Maybe I can help. I- The last time I tried to get Luci back to Hell- It was bad. I don’t think I ever really apologized properly.”

“Trading feathers got you to stop and see when you were hurting each other,” Rafael said but Amenadiel was already trying his own feather only for it to fail again. Lucifer stirred weakly as consciousness began to return. The movement jarred his broken wing and he whimpered. Rafael’s attention snapped to him. “If feathers won’t work I’ll just have to treat his injuries as if he were mortal. Out, all of you out,” she ordered fiercely.

Remiel was the closest to the door and vanished through it in a heartbeat, Michael and Amenadiel exited hot on her heels but they didn’t go far. Amenadiel sat on the broad steps leading to Rafael’s clinic, Remiel stood near the leafy arch that separated Rafael’s space from the general thoroughfare. “I still don’t understand how Lucifer could have lost so badly,” Remiel said. “There were many demons turned against him but his wings were intact before they nailed him to his throne, why didn’t he fly out of their reach? Even a momentary jaunt to the Mortal Plane would have thrown them off.”

“Sam- Lucifer,” Michael corrected himself forcefully, “lit the stars and loved them because they were shiney. Their tactical advantage in fighting demons never occurred to him. Now I find him in Hell wearing mortal cloth instead of his celestial armor. As much he’s tried to destroy everything he once was, he’s still an idiot who gives no thought to anything practical.”

“I don’t remember Lucifer wearing his armor during the Rebellion,” Remiel commented. “It’s probably still here somewhere.”

Amenadiel flinched and Michael looked ill then his expression hardened. “It seems there won’t be a quick fix for Lucifer’s injuries,” Michael declared. He spread his wings wide. “I’ll see to his duties until he’d fit to resume them. Find someone else to deal with the disaster Lucifer precipitated when he murdered Uriel.” The powerful gust of wind generated by Michael’s departure tore leaves from Rafael’s plants and overturned a few of the smaller pots.

* * *

The realm beyond the Gates of Hell was barren, grey rocky ground fading into grey ashy sky. Staring into the distance Michael couldn’t help but feel like all he had to do was squint a little harder and he’d be able to make something out. _‘It's darker than the outskirts of Heaven, no lines to get in but the only real difference is that I’m watching the walls instead of the void.’_ Michael told himself.

There was no day or night on the Infernal Plane, it was always a sullen twilight. The only break in the sameness of towering grey walls, barren grey ground and ashy grey sky was the small gate Michael guarded and the camp he’d set up beside it. Michael couldn’t see Hell’s main entrance from his camp but, as the main entrance was less a Gate than a sucking maw swallowing up the souls of the Damned, it didn’t really require guarding.

An agonized scream echoed from within the walls. _‘All right, that’s different from home,’_ Michael admitted. He thought of endless corridors of shut doors that lay on the other side of the wall and remembered when the Silver City had been small, less than a hamlet but more than a house. There had been no doors. There had been walls to delineate spaces dedicated to a particular purpose or individual, there were roofs and blinds to control light levels or for the sake of privacy- _‘Sorely needed when Mother and Father were busy conceiving the Third Tier of angels,’_ Michael thought with a small shudder as he tried not to remember walking in on his parents. But no doors, not yet.

The first door in Heaven had closed them out of their Father’s workshop. His work was too delicate and His children too rambunctious and so He’d created a door to keep them out. It hadn’t taken long for other doors to appear after that: Doors for Mother and Father to fight behind. Doors to cry or rage behind. Doors to evade annoying younger siblings- _‘Hana and Remi were never bad but the rest of the Third Tier?’_ Michael grimaced. _‘Getting older or younger until it ‘felt right’, trying out different genders… Well, doors weren’t ALL bad. They saved us from enduring Castiel’s musical aspirations. If Father or Mother had wanted him to be a musician they would have gifted him with musical talent. And of course Samael encouraged all their nonsense, even Castiel’s.’_

Michael stepped back from the Gate when he saw Azrael alight with her latest batch of missorted souls in tow. She gave Michael a small nod then pounded on the Gate as loudly as she could. Michael drew his sword and watched the Gate warily, wondering if the demons would try to use this as cover for an attack. The Gate stayed closed and silent. Several of the souls started looking relieved. “Is this all some sort of joke?” one asked with a disapproving frown. Michael saw the shadow of the priest’s collar the soul had worn in life around his neck.

“No,” Azrael stated. “It’s not a joke. It’s not a mistake. You were a cruel, intolerant bastard who used the pulpit to spread hate. You’re right where you belong. But Hell’s having a bit of an insurrection, a quarrel between the demons who go for torturing dark souls and the ones that like eating them, or something like that I hear. I guess there’s no one available to escort you to your cell. You might want to make sure to find your own way after I toss you in the main entrance… Unless you go for being eaten.” With that she grabbed the chain that bound the souls together and flew them up to the main entrance to Hell. Michael followed after them.

“That’s happening more and more,” Azrael said after she was done chucking her charges in. “Even while Lu was on his vacation there’d still be someone answering the Gate, until that last bit after he sent Cain down anyway. I always figured that one was for the Void if he ever actually managed to die.”

“If we’re lucky they’re too busy with a civil war to care,” Michael said.

“And if we’re not?” Azrael asked.

“At worst, they’ve consolidated behind whichever demon deposed Lucifer and are looking for another way to get your blade so that they can attack Heaven,” Michael said. “Has Lucifer woken up to give a report on what happened to him?”

“Err,” Azrael scuffed her toe in the ash and looked at anything not Michael. “Lu ran away to Earth the moment he woke up. He was sort of freaking out, to the point of trying to cross dimensional planes with a broken wing and we all know how well that works. I helped him get to Earth without burning up again and, um, left him there. He was really freaked out, Mike. Amenadiel thought it was a good idea, that Lu would recover better on the Mortal Plane. Which is totally the truth. I mean, first, time passes so much faster there than in the Silver City. Also a lot less people on the Mortal Plane who’d preemptively murder him, you know, since Remi and Hana are both in Heaven along with the rest of your army. And I’m babbling, I’m totally babbling. Gotta go.”

“Who judged that last bunch of souls?” Michael asked quickly, before Azrael could flee.

“Oh, um, well. It was Amenadiel’s idea,” Azrael said. “He’s got everyone who’s Purpose doesn’t keep them totally busy rotating. He said if everyone tried maybe we’d find someone who’s gifts worked for the job. Raz did that batch then he said he needed to look into something on the Mortal Plane, so it’s Gabe’s turn now. Smell you later.”

Michael caught Azrael’s collar before she could flee. “Has anyone thought to _ask_ Lucifer what happened?” he demanded. “Even if he’s on the Mortal Plane he can still be questioned.”

“I’ll tell Amenadiel,” Azrael promised, slipping free of Michael’s grasp. “Lu doesn’t want to talk to the rest of us. He thinks we only came because it’d be a problem for us if he were dead. He thinks we hate him and he doesn’t even remember that it wasn’t _Dad_ who broke his wings.”

Michael drew back as if burned and Azrael was gone in a whirl of feathers. He went back to guarding the Gates of Hell and wondered how many months it would be before another of his siblings ventured down to check on him. _‘Maybe they won’t. None of us checked on Amenadiel while he was filling in for Lucifer.’_


	3. The Edge of Hell

It was hard to keep track of the days in Hell, days and weeks blended together in a blur of uneventful sameness. Michael used the hilt of his sword to score a line into the wall near the Gate below an older set of tally marks that he assumed commemorated Amenadiel’s tenure guarding the Gates.

Once that was done he retreated to his tent to get out of the constantly falling ash while he consumed one of the rations he’d brought with him.

He spent a few minutes in prayer with his siblings, sending up inquiries: Was everything was running smoothly up above? Was there any word about what had defeated Lucifer yet? Had anyone even remembered to ask Lucifer that? Michael didn’t get a response and didn’t expect one, the attenuation of time between the Planes made communication difficult. It took an age to hear a message from Hell let alone respond to it. _‘Even if they don’t really hear what I’m saying as long as I pray they won’t forget I’m down here.’_

Once he was done sending his messages Michael went back to watching the ash fall, listening to the screams from beyond the Gate and waiting for an attack that didn’t come. There was more familiarity in that last than he really liked thinking about. _‘I wasn’t impatient for the attack when Lucifer was supposed to be leading it,’_ Michael told himself. _‘No one could wait THAT long for something and not want to get it over with on occasion, even if IT was a war against their twin.’_

Before he saw any of his siblings again Michael had added dozens of tallies to the wall. It was Haniel who came. With her silver blonde hair, pale skin and her wings, nearly as white as Lucifer’s on the inside but flecked with black on the outside, stirring up a flurry of ash she appeared ghostly. “Hana, do you have news?” Michael called.

“I heard Rae-Rae threw off your command,” Haniel blurted out. “In Hell, you commanded her back but she went after Lucifer instead. Does that mean she’s inherently incapable of abandoning the Adversary? Mike, will we have to fight Rae-Rae when the war comes?”

Michael frowned at her, “Given what’s happened, _Lucifer_ may not even be involved in the war.”

Haniel’s jaw gaped, “Didn’t he destroy Uriel to keep him from predicting his plans again? You always said that’s how he was beaten so easily last time; because we got the jump on him.”

“Lucifer killed Uri because Uri picked a fight with him,” Michael corrected. “He doesn’t plan _anything_ , he never did.”

“But-” Haniel protested.

“Hana, Uri stole Rae-Rae’s sword and brought it to the Mortal Plane, if Uri hadn’t done that then Lucifer couldn’t have destroyed him,” Michael pointed out. He shoved away the sound of Azrael screeching _‘I told you so!’_ in his head.

“So he took advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself and in barely any time at all Hell’s preparing for an attack on us,” Haniel argued. “That can’t be coincidence.”

Michael sighed. “It’s been no time for us,” he reminded her. “You just found out that I was guarding the Gates of Hell right? I’ve been gone from my post in Heaven for… a day, maybe two?”

Haniel nodded.

“That’s Celestial time,” he said. “In the Infernal Plane I’ve been guarding this damned Gate for six- seven months now. It’s hard to keep track, all I’ve got to go off of is my stomach and all the demon-blood in the air sours my appetite.”

Haniel looked around the barren swath of no man's land between the walls of Hell and the Void and shuddered. “You’ve been stuck here, alone for months?” she asked. “That’s awful. I could stay.” She smiled brightly, “It’s not fair you know! Remi’s bragging about how she got to fight actual demons and she got to fight in the Rebellion! I know Amenadiel trained her but _you_ trained me! I’m ready, Mike, believe me!”

Michael looked unconvinced.

“Or we could set up a rotation,” Haniel continued. “That’s how I found out where you were, Amenadiel told us we all had to take turns at Heaven’s Lesser Gate since you were watching Hell. Personally, I think we waste too much time with those souls anyway, if they feel guilty they probably are guilty. Raz can catch the fanatics and the ones with malfunctioning consciences when he interviews them to collect their knowledge.” A look of disgust crossed her delicate features, “He _likes_ talking with mortals.”

“A rotation?” Michael looked dubious. _‘I’m not Lucifer, I’m an obedient Child of God. When Father gives me a task I don’t shirk from it… It’s just... I'm not_ good _at judging souls. Everyone saw it, that was what Uriel was created for, not me. But this, I can do this. It’s barely outside of my Purpose. I was created to protect Heaven from attack, the attack will come from here. It’s actually to our advantage to fight the battle here instead of waiting for them to bring the fight to us… But Father didn’t give me this task. It’s Lucifer’s job to control Hell I’m just filling in because, for once, he’s got a decent excuse for not doing his duty. It’s certainly not like Raffie isn’t_ trying _to heal him. It’s not her fault it’s not working and Lucifer’s in no condition to fight with broken wings and a missing arm. We’re NOT sending him back here to be destroyed.’_

“Actually, a rotation is a great idea Hana,” Michael said. “I’m neglecting my own duties. If several of us were garrisoned here I could keep up your training and keep an eye on Hell until Raffie gets Lucifer patched up.”

“Why is she healing him anyway?” Haniel asked. “He’s the Adversary. Shouldn’t we be celebrating that Hell’s been weakened?”

For a moment Michael flashed on his twin pinned like a butterfly to the base of his throne. “Celebrate that demons nearly claimed Azrael’s Blade, which can destroy even a Celestial’s soul and cut through the Gates of Heaven?” he asked sternly and Haniel winced. “Besides," he continued, "It’s Lucifer’s purpose to rule Hell, he has to do it whether or not he likes it. Well, as soon as he’s capable.”

“I don’t understand that either,” Haniel said and Michael gritted his teeth at his younger sister’s whining. “Why does Father give him a whole kingdom to challenge Heaven with?”

A thought came to Michael and his face softened. “Maybe Father never _meant_ for Lucifer to be our enemy,” he said and it was the first time in eons where he’d even had that much of an answer. _‘Maybe I finally don’t have to ask why Father ever let us love Sam when we were going to have to fight him. He had to know what Lucifer would be like. But if Lucifer’s not the Adversary maybe that’s why: So we’d know to rescue him.’_

“If Lucifer isn’t the villain then why did he destroy Uriel?” Haniel asked.

Michael had no answer for that.

* * *

“Set the tents up in two rows,” Remiel ordered the six Fourth Tier angels she’d recruited for the rotation. “TWO ROWS. Close to the Wall, it provides a little shelter from this damned ash. And put on your masks.” She walked over to where Michael was guarding the gate holding out one of the surgical masks she’d picked up from the Mortal Plane. “You too Big Brother,” she said. She gestured to the darkness spilling over the Wall like a fog. “Breathing that stuff can’t be good for you.”

“At least we know the demons haven’t stopped killing each other yet,” Michael said. “Lucifer still has some supporters.”

“Or they’re a bunch of blood-thirsty rats, turning on each other in the absence of other prey,” Haniel remarked. “It’s disgusting, I’ve barely been able to make myself eat since I came down.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re rotating up,” Michael replied.

“What? No!” Haniel exclaimed. “You’ve been here since the beginning, Remi and I can take care of establishing the outpost while you get a little fresh air.”

Michael shook his head. “Neither of you have any real battle experience-”

“Are you forgetting I went into Hell with you just a couple days ago?” Remiel objected and Haniel scowled sulkily at the reminder.

“No,” Michael replied sternly. “I’m not leaving unless Amenadiel’s available and he’s busy riding herd on Lucifer. Beyond that, the First Born has his half-mortal spawn. If Mortals are damned by abandoning their offspring how much worse would it be for an angel to behave like that?”

Haniel wrinkled her nose in disgust, “I suppose abandoning it now that it’s here would be even worse than conceiving the thing in the first place.”

“Father must have some plan for it, since he allowed it to happen,” Michael said. Reluctantly Remiel and Haniel nodded. “Amenadiel isn’t available. The two of you, along with the rest of the Third Tier, aren’t experienced enough to be here alone. We all know the Fourth Tier’s no good for anything but following orders. Gabe’s manning Heaven’s Gates and Raffie’s busy trying to sort Lucifer out and even if they were available neither of them are warriors. So Hana, head up get some rest, then come back in a Celestial week and relieve your sister. I will be fine staying.”

Neither of the sisters looked convinced.

“I’ve been on longer campaigns,” Michael said. He glanced at the Darkness seeping past the walls and thought, _‘But not since before Lucifer Fell… Strange, Sam must have more battle experience than I do now.’_ And that realization felt completely wrong. Michael knew Lucifer could fight, _‘We can ALL fight. Raffie hates it but how else could we settle anything after Father stopped telling us who was right? Sam_ can _fight but he was never a warrior, apart from Raffie he was the least likely to try to settle things with a brawl. Sam always liked to talk. Let Sam talk long enough and you’d actually start thinking up was down or even that Father could be wrong. And that was the whole problem wasn’t it?’_

After Haniel had left and the Fourth Tier angels were busily seeing to their tasks Remiel sidled up to Michael. “Did you hear from Amenadiel?” she said. “He reported that it was some sort of archdemon that defeated Lucifer. Amenadiel says it might be something new, created by all the Primordial Darkness released by civil wars among the demons. Or it could be something really old that was missed in the purge?” The younger angel’s voice rose in an uncertain query.

“The demons you saw when we went into Hell to rescue Lucifer were ants,” Michael said. “Nothing like what I used to fight.” His voice settled into a storyteller’s cadence. “Father and Mother came together and created the Universe as a safe place for their family and Father’s creations to live and grow. But Father and Mother weren’t alone in the void that existed before the Universe was. As the Universe expanded, and it was the nature of the Universe to expand, it became more porous. Some of the things from the Void, the smallest of the Void’s inhabitants, were able to slip into the Universe and we call those things ‘demons’. But they were true demons, not halflings like the Lilim who serve Lucifer.

“Father and Mother could not prevent the demons from gaining access to the Universe but Father said _‘DO NOT FEAR.’_ He divided the Universe into the Celestial, Mortal and Infernal Planes. He concentrated the weaknesses of the Universe into the Infernal Plane and withdrew the Light of His presence from that Plane so that the demons were enticed into entering there and not elsewhere. He sent Amenadiel and I into the Mortal Plane to slay the boldest of the demons and drive them back into the Infernal Plane. And He sent Lucifer, who was uniquely Gifted with the ability to create Light, into the Mortal Plane. He told Lucifer to set the stars alight with Celestial Flames and so the Mortal Plane became hostile to true demons, a place for Life to flourish, because Life also generates Light which true demons find unbearable.”

“Is that why Lucifer was supposed to rule Hell?” Remiel broke in. “Because he’s the only one of us who can make Light so he doesn’t starve here, cut off from Father’s Light as it is?”

“I suppose that could be the reason,” Michael allowed. “The souls that end up here certainly don’t make any Light, not like the ones in Heaven.” He stopped and considered something that he hadn’t thought of before. “Father made Mortal Souls such that they generate Light or Dark, not Celestial Flames or Primordial Darkness but Light and Dark all the same. I wonder if that’s why He made Mortals as He did?”

Remiel frowned thoughtfully. “Father must have made them for a reason.” It was an old, old argument among the angels: Why had their Father made Mortals? Why intentionally make something that lacked Purpose? Mortals must have some Purpose, as everything Father did had Purpose, including making creatures that didn’t know what their Purpose was. But then why make Mortals then withhold their Purpose from them? And, always: How could Lucifer _want_ to be like them? How could he want to flounder around in uncertainty like Mortals did?

“Father always has a Purpose,” Michael agreed by route.

“So the Purge was you and Amenadiel driving the worst of the demons off the Mortal Plane?” Remiel asked.

Michael shook his head. “Before Lucifer was cast into Hell, it was ruled by true demons, although ruled might be too strong a word. The true demons roamed Hell, killing and consuming each other and the Lilim once they came into existence. After Lucifer Fell, after he burned, Amenadiel went to check on him. When he returned he said that Lucifer had slaughtered the greater demons among them and thus became King of Hell. The Lilim became his vassals and, when they arrived, the mortal souls who had spread darkness in life became his serfs in death. Lesser demons, like the ones we fought before, are the bulk of the demon population. They’re not exactly animals but I don’t know that they could be considered sentient either. The Lilim are soulless and thus only arguably sentient as well; they can reason but they don’t feel.”

“Okay,” Remiel said. “So, either Lucifer missed killing one of these ‘greater demons’ or a new one formed or, maybe, a new one made its way to Hell from the Void. It defeated him and most of the Lilim are dead, that’s what Amenadiel said anyway, so the lesser demons started following it? Amenadiel didn’t really say anything about who came up with the plan to summon Azrael’s Blade from the Void but I suppose it had to be this new archdemon.”

Michael frowned at the Walls thoughtfully. “Has there been any change in Lucifer’s condition?”

“He won’t let Raffie near him,” Remiel reported. “But Amenadiel says talking with the mortal he mated will help Lucifer fix himself.”

“How does talking fix anything?” Michael said doubtfully. He looked at the Wall again, the beginnings of a smirk turning up his lips, “What if, when Lucifer finally got better and got back to work, what if his big bad demon was already dealt with?”

Remiel perked up, instantly interested.

“Amenadiel and I fought dozens of Greater Demons back before mortals were sent out from Father’s workshop,” Michael continued. He shut out the voice that reminded him that Lucifer must have fought hundreds, without backup or any avenue of retreat. “What’s one more?”

“With Hana and a full complement of Forth Tier backing us up we could sweep Hell, destroy them all,” Remiel suggested excitedly. “Show Lucifer how you really deal with demons.”

Michael shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. No matter how many demons you kill there will always be more. The Darkness will always return in some new form. What we can do is get rid of this Greater Demon that Lucifer couldn’t handle.” He grinned a little, “We could lord it over Lucifer if we solved his problem for him. Besides, if he’s going to be out of it for a while it would be good to deal with this before the demons discover a way of retrieving Azrael’s Blade without using Lucifer as a focus.”

“I’m in,” Remiel said.


	4. Loops

The two angels quickly traversed Hell’s maze heading straight for the throne and surrounding plane where they’d found Lucifer before.

While barely a day had passed on Earth, it had been years beyond the walls of Hell. In the time they’d been gone the throne had eroded, the spire barely standing taller than the maze of doors. A demon with tentacles and too many eyes crouched over a crumpled body in the center of the empty plane, ripping at it with a thick, vicious beak as it gurgled and bled Darkness.

“It’s bigger than any of the ones I saw last time,” Michael remarked,

Remiel grimaced in disgust. “They’re eating each other.”

“I told you,” Michael said. “It’s a way of consolidating the Darkness, making themselves stronger. Come on. I want to see how strong it actuallyis.”

Remiel nodded. “It’s alone, or as good as.”

Michael grinned, quick and flashing. Then he spread his wings, drew his sword and pounced. With the boneless fluidity of an octopus the demon pulled its body out of the sword’s path and retaliated. It smashed a heavy, scute studded tentacle into Michael’s sword arm. Michael turned with the blow, refusing to let his sword drop. He snapped his opposite wing forward and sliced off the offending tentacle with his sharpened primaries.

“Hell won’t bow to you, angel,” the demon snarled in a deep gurgling voice.

Remiel stabbed the demon in the back with her spear, pinning it to the ground, “It will if we make it,” she said coldly. She twisted her blade and jerked it to the side, killing the demon.

“Well, that wasn’t too hard,” Michael said cheerfully as he fanned his wings, encouraging the demon’s blood to evaporate off his feathers. “But I don’t think this is the one that defeated Lucifer.”

He and Remiel crossed the plane then back into the maze of doors as it resumed on the other side.

“Do you think that there are more of the weird ones forming with Lucifer haring off to the Mortal Plane?” Remiel asked.

Michael glanced back to answer her and his eyes went wide, “Remi!” he shouted as several of the doors opened and a horde of young Lilim poured out. Remiel barely had time to raise her spear before a girl, just a child, threw herself on the angel’s back and slit her throat without hesitation. Michael saw blood spurting from his sister’s severed artery for a moment and then her body vanished. The little Lilim landed smoothly in a crouch as Remiel disappeared from beneath her.

Then the swarm descended on Michael with a blood-thirsty roar.

* * *

Someone was plinking inexpertly on a piano. The irregular notes played a painful counterpoint to the pounding in Michael’s head. With a small groan the angel forced himself to open his eyes. The room he found himself in was illuminated by the reddish orange glow of a fire. He recognized bits and pieces from his mother’s old rooms in the Silver City: The view just visible through the balcony doors. The glowing tapestry hung on the wall. The low, bowl shaped couch, perfect for wings. Other things Michael didn’t recognize at all: An odd chandelier like a tangle of light strung roots. An Assyrian wall… And a polished black piano where Uriel sat idly pressing keys. “Finally awake?” he asked. “They must have hit you pretty hard.”

“Uri!” Michael exclaimed. “You’re not destroyed! Did Lucifer lock you up here?”

“You never were the sharpest crayon in the box, were you Mike?” Uriel said. “This is Lucifer’s cell in Hell, I’m nothing more than a manifestation of his guilt. Well,” he gestured towards the glowing tapestry, “Mother’s too, since she came in here as well.”

“What am I doing here?” Michael asked. “Is Remi home safe?”

Uriel shrugged. “Lilith and a bunch of her new brood stowed you here. I suppose they mistook you for Lucifer.” He smiled sharply. “This isn’t your cell, you could always leave.”

Michael nodded and started towards the balcony.

“Unless…” Uriel began. “Do you remember?”

Michael stopped. Through the glass of the balcony doors he saw a ball of flames shoot past, he knew it wasn’t a falling star. The odor of burning flesh filled the room. Just an inch short of the doorknob, Michael’s hand pulled back to cover his mouth and nose.

“After? I wanted to ask Father why my powers failed, why the pattern didn’t show me that Lucifer would burn. You talked me out of it. So I asked Mother instead. Do you remember? She was so angry,” Uriel smiled and spread his hands helplessly. Bruises formed on his face, his left eye socket shattered and the skin over his cheek bone split like an overripe peach. “Did you know? She wanted Lucifer to inspire a rebellion against Father. She was so very angry that we… That I got in Her way. And I was all alone.”

Slowly, Michael turned back to face Uriel.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to Father?” Uriel asked plaintively. “Even if He meant for us to make Lucifer Fall and burn in the Falling, He wouldn’t have beat me for asking. Michael, why didn’t you go with me when I asked Mother?”

“It was all Lucifer’s fault,” Michael said weakly and Hell laughed at him.

“I used to talk to you,” Uriel continued sadly. “I couldn’t talk to Remi, she was just a kid. She trusted our judgement almost as much as Father’s, we couldn’t burden her with our doubts.”

Michael found himself nodding along.

“And Amenadiel? After he came back from Hell, he wouldn’t even hear Sam’s name. _Lucifer_ Fell, not Samael. _Lucifer_ burned, Sam didn’t even exist... according to Amenadiel. Lucifer was the source of all evil, he’d never been one of us and you couldn’t tell Amenadiel otherwise. But then Lucifer started escaping to Earth. Amenadiel put himself in charge of returning him to Hell and along the way Lucifer turned into Luci. Only Amenadiel wouldn’t talk about that either.” Uriel rubbed his bruised cheek, “Lucifer was nothing more than The Adversary but Lucifer was ‘Luci’ too. Amenadiel punched me once for pointing out that nicknames meant fondness.”

“It was Father’s will and don’t any of you dare suggest the First Born felt anything but joyous about carrying out Father’s will,” Michael muttered resentfully.

Uriel reached out and caught Michael’s hands, drawing him further into the room. “You were the only one I could talk to. I even told you about the night before Lucifer Fell, didn’t I?” The room began to shift around them. A weapon’s rack formed on the balcony with Michael’s sword and few spears. A Go board, a game in progress, appeared on the coffee table.

The question dropped from Uriel’s voice as he added, “You were the only one I ever told. But I had to know: Why did my powers fail? Why didn’t I see that we’d make Lucifer burn? You wouldn’t let me talk to Father. So I went to Mother.”

Uriel’s eye started sliding out of his ruined eye-socket and Michael scrabbled to pull a feather from his wing. “It won’t help,” Uriel said bluntly. “Even Father had to strain to erase the results of Mother’s rage. Then He sent Mother away. After that He stopped talking to anyone… And you stopped talking to me. I didn’t have anyone I could talk to Mike. You left me all alone.”

Then Uriel smiled, “Until the Madness came to keep me company.”

* * *

Remiel tasted blood, she choked on it as it ran down her windpipe and the gurgling sound as air escaped through the gaping hole in her throat terrified her. She didn’t feel the hands softening her fall. She tried to raise her hands to stem the bleeding but they wouldn’t move.

“Somebody try to flag down one of her siblings!” a man ordered.

“I’ve got a feather,” a woman said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to stand around watching her choke, bleed out and revive over and over until she heals or one of the angels lower themselves to talk to us,” the woman said sharply.

Remiel felt a burst of warmth and strength flow into the wound to her throat. She took a deep breath then sat up and looked around. She found herself in the middle of a grassy lane between towering, fantastical skyscrapers. Dozens of human souls were staring at her curiously. “Wha-” Her voice caught in her throat and she leaned over to spit out a mouthful of blood. “Where’s Michael? How did you have one of my sibling's feathers? Where am I?”

“You might say ‘thank you’,” the woman said tartly. “After all we did heal you.”

“With a feather stolen from one of my siblings!” Remiel snapped. Then she frowned, there was something familiar about the woman.

“Well, I wouldn’t say stolen precisely, we pick ‘em up all the time after your little spats,” the man said. He shook his head. “You know there was a time, before I died, when I thought angels were peaceable types, if they existed at all. But no, you lot are always in one brawl or another. Just the other day Raziel was screaming about a page being torn outta one of his books. You know feathers flew over that one.”

The woman snorted in amusement, “Most of us humans show up with an understanding about the dangers of getting between a librarian and their books.”

Remiel winced. She could easily picture it. The list of siblings who treated books with the reverence Raziel believed was their due was practically non-existent.

“Raz actually talks to us, not like most of you,” the man continued disapprovingly.

“I’m in one of the human ghettos?” Remiel realized. “Why would Father have drawn me here?”

The oddly familiar woman rolled her eyes. “As if anyone tells us anything,” she said. “It’s just: _‘Fine you’re in. Don’t bother asking for God. Dad doesn’t talk to us, He’s certainly not going to bother with a borderline case like you'._ ”

Remiel winced at the woman’s accurate but none too flattering imitation of Michael's tone when dealing with the souls Azrael brought up for judgement.

“Don’t knock it, at least you got an introduction speech,” the man said. “Most of us don’t even see an angel up close until Raz finds time to interview us.”

“I’m so lucky,” the woman said sarcastically and Remiel was certain she should know her. “I got the listen to Amenadiel and Michael fight about whether or not I belong here.”

_'Amenadiel?'_ Remiel wondered then she shook herself. _‘What am I doing still standing here? I need to find out what happened to Mike after those demons ambushed us.’_ She spread her wings but before she could fly off the woman grabbed her arm.

“Wait!” the woman exclaimed. “You were with the group that brought Lucifer. Is he okay? What’s going to happen to him?”

“You don’t have to worry about Lucifer,” Remiel said patronizingly. “It’s not the start of Armageddon, Lucifer’s not here to pull any souls down to Hell. Actually, it’s Azrael who removes missorted souls from the Celestial Plane.”

“I’m not scared _of_ Lucifer,” the woman said. “I’m scared _for_ him. We heard Michael dragged him to a cell. That he was bleeding out, half dead! What did you lot do to him?!”

“Why would a human care about the Devil?” Remiel asked.

“Because I actually met him. Because he’s my friend. Because I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t helped me figure out how to turn myself around,” the woman said, her eyes narrowed accusingly. “See, the funny thing is? Humans who actually meet the Devil and don’t end up liking him, at least reluctantly… Well, they don’t end up here.”

And a light went on, “You’re that human Amenadiel flew up,” Remiel exclaimed.

Charlotte Richards nodded.

“You got shot shielding him,” Remiel finished. “I- Thank you,” she stammered. “My big brother told me about how he fell. I’m not sure what would have happened to him if he’d been killed while he was mortal.”

“Can you tell us what’s going on with Lucifer?” the man asked. “You angels are doing so much talking about him that even we hear but it’s all rumor and some pretty wild ones at that.”

“I suppose you know Lucifer too?” Remiel asked the man.

“Only second hand,” he said then held out his hand. Remiel stared at it blankly. He shook his head and sighed. “John Decker,” he introduced himself. “Your brother is my daughter’s partner. Saved her life a couple times. My granddaughter, too. I’m real grateful for that one.”

“Why?” Remiel asked. “I mean, why your granddaughter more than your daughter?”

John smiled wryly. “I want Chloe to have a long life and get the chance to watch her daughter grow up but I’ve got no worries about where she’ll end up after she dies and she’ll do alright in Heaven.”

“Well, of course, it’s Heaven,” Remiel said. “And, of course your granddaughter would come here if she died. All children do, Azrael makes a special point of escorting them up. She says they don’t understand life or death well enough to judge themselves so she intercedes. Uriel agreed with her and Father didn’t say anything against it so she must have the right of it.”

John shook his head, “This is a good place to _be_ but it’s no good for _becoming_.”

“It’s a Lotus-Eater issue,” Charlotte explained. “It’s easy, too easy to bliss-out endlessly reliving the best moments of your life. If you can resist the Loops, you can reconnect with your loved ones, learn that skill you always meant to find time for,” a quick grin lit her face, “Or catch one of the couple hundred plays Shakespeare or Wilde penned since their deaths.” She gestured to the city around them. “Humans built all this,” she said.

Remiel took a more careful look, the city was clean and bright, the building designs driven as much by aesthetics as function. Displays of artworks and crafts were intermingled with gardens. The city was a labor of love.

“We’re not resource limited here,” John continued. “And this place has a way of smoothing most the rough edges between folks. We’ve got material scientists from the twenty-first century collaborating with the architects of the great Cathedrals. It’s amazing what we accomplish. But only if you can fight off the Loops.”

“No one really knows why kids have so much trouble,” Charlotte said. “Maybe it’s because they don’t have the experience to know that life’s supposed to have its ups and downs but kids just can’t seem to escape their Loops.”

“We know they’re happy but they’re not really here with us,” John said. “So I’m eternally grateful your brother saved Trixie from that, I dearly want the chance to meet that girl. And I’d really appreciate anything you could tell us about what happened to Lucifer.”

“If he’s in trouble we want to help,” Charlotte said as she subtly guided Remiel into walking with them. “Character references. If you want facts about what he actually does while he’s visiting Earth. There are a lot of us who would happily speak on Lucifer’s behalf.”

“It’s nothing like what you’re thinking,” Remiel assured her. “We only brought Lucifer here because he was injured. And it wasn’t us that hurt him, it was his demons. He was overthrown.”

“What was he doing in Hell in the first place?” John asked.

Remiel sighed and set herself for a long explanation.


	5. Beyond a Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granted, Lilith is a pretty klugey fit into Genesis but she’s canon for “Lucifer TV ” both as Adam’s first wife and Maze’s mother.

Michael knew that he was behind one of Hell’s countless doors. He knew that. But the streets of the Silver City trembled with their Father’s wrath-

> _“YOU WEREN’T TO COME HERE SAMAEL.”_
> 
> _Mother was there, She was on his side. He tilted his chin up, stubbornly refusing to feel repentant. “I just wanted to know what was so much more important than us,” he said._
> 
> _“MY WORK IS DELICATE. YOU KNOW BETTER SAMAEL.”_
> 
> _Curiosity got the better of him, it always did. “What are they for? They don’t seem to know.”_
> 
> _“IF THEY SO CHOOSE, THEY WILL MAKE LIGHT.”_
> 
> _He frowned; he’d_ liked _Father’s new creatures but making Light was his domain._
> 
> _“NOT LIKE YOUR LIGHT SAMAEL, SMALL AND DELICATE BUT IMPORTANT STILL. YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE TO LOVE THEM AS IF THEY WERE ALSO YOUR SIBLINGS, FOR IN A WAY THEY ARE.” A pause. “BUT TO MAKE LIGHT ONE MUST ALSO BE CAPABLE OF CREATING DARK AND THE DARK MUST BE DISCOURAGED. YOU WILL BE TASKED WITH PUNISHING THOSE WHO CHOOSE DARK.”_
> 
> _He liked Father’s new creatures, if he punished them they wouldn’t like him anymore. “I don’t want to. You said they choose, I want a choice too.”_
> 
> _“SAMAEL, YOU WILL DO AS YOU’RE TOLD.”_
> 
> _Mother stood there and said nothing. As if he hadn’t sided with Her. -He’d never trust Her to be on his side again. Never!-_
> 
> _He stamped his foot angrily. “I won’t! If they have a choice, so should I! And I chose no! Do it yourself, Father!”_
> 
> _… Everything was confused and painful. His wings! But no something else hurt even worse, it was as if something were ripping his chest open. He looked down and screamed. “Father!!” - No, hide! Hide! Hide! Hide! Hide from the hurt!_
> 
> _...Grey muffling the hurt. Muffling everything. A dim sense of time passing. Of want and hurt and fear, somewhere else, outside the grey. Grey and muffled, safe from other. Safe, alone and safe. So alone._
> 
> _So long in the grey._
> 
> _The sweet slide of flesh on flesh. So distant. Was that his flesh? Who? -Eve? Not Eve. Bisected face, half-rotted, should repulse but too familiar for revulsion. Her hands on him, her flesh firm under his hands. So very familiar, good and safe. Wet and slick and so, so very good-_

“I am Michael! Not Samael!” It took all of Michael’s strength to rip himself out of his twin’s memories.

> _The streets of the Silver City trembled with their Father’s wrath and Samael stormed out of their Father’s workshop slamming the door behind him, not a hint of repentance on his face._
> 
> _“What did you do?” he demanded, grabbing his twin’s arm before he could fly off to sulk._
> 
> _Samael shook him off, sputtering and nearly incoherent with rage. “Father gave them a choice! Them and not me!”_
> 
> _With a frustrated huff, he took to the air after his brother. “What are you talking about Sam?”_
> 
> _“Don’t call me that!” Samael hissed. “I won’t be Father’s venom! If they get a choice why shouldn’t I?”_

“I always thought Samael was so named because his light poisoned the Mortal Plane for demons,” Michael sighed.

Uriel’s smile was belittling.

> _The next thing he knew Samael had pulled aside a group of their siblings, “Father doesn’t plan to assign these mortals a purpose. They are to be allowed to determine their purpose according to their wishes!”_
> 
> _And there was muttering and fearful glances towards Father’s workshop. “Creatures with no God-Given purpose?” “Father’s given this Man leave to name the lesser creatures. What if they’re like demons? What if they hate us?”_
> 
> _“Don't call me Samael anymore. I lit the stars for Father, I’ll be the light-bringer, Lucifer. Father can find someone else to be his punisher because I won’t do it! I chose NOT to be that.”_
> 
> _Uriel came to he and Amenadiel, “Samael has declared himself not of God. And some of the others are beginning to agree with him.”_
> 
> _Amenadiel shook his head. “Father’s wisdom is absolute. None would gainsay him, not even Sam.”_

“And where was Father in all this Mike?” Uriel whispered poisonously.

> _“As I’ve told you before,” Lucifer said to a gathering of his siblings. “Father’s new creations have been allowed to find their own purpose. And they’ve discovered a most marvelous pastime, it’s called ‘sex’. The male, Adam- Well, Father clearly made it in His image; It thinks it knows the right of everything and its way is the only way. It had a terrible quarrel with its first companion when she wanted to spice things up a bit, probably made Dad think of Mum because He took Adam’s side, kicked Lilith out and made him a new companion. But Adam, idiot that he is, couldn’t quit talking about the fight with his new companion. That got Eve to wondering if he wished he’d said yes to Lilith. So I told Eve, if she desired, she could try anything she was curious about on me and if it really was better I would tell her and then she could show it to Adam. As it turns out, there are many, many amazing ways of doing it. You don’t even have to use the designated orifices and protuberances. Poor thing was nervous about talking to Adam about it, so I offered to lend a hand and it turns out that there are even more lovely things you can do with three bodies. Really, they must sort out this whole ‘be fruitful and multiply’ thing because you have to try this but the two of them can barely keep up with me. If we all tried to play with them it would be disastrous.”_

“Where was Father? Where were YOU Uri?” Michael accused.

> _Uriel grabbed Amenadiel’s arm desperately. “You don’t understand. Father neglects us for his mortals. Mother’s on Lucifer's side.”_
> 
> _“None of us like Father’s new creatures,” he said dismissively. “We’re ordered never to kill a mortal but they are to be allowed the choice to be wicked? Still, how does that have anything to do with Sam? My idiot twin thinks this whole ‘free will’ thing is a great idea.”_
> 
> _“It doesn’t matter what Lucifer thinks!” Uriel exclaimed in frustration. “He’s openly speaking out against Father. It doesn’t matter what he says! It doesn’t matter if he’s got a point! He’s making the unthinkable thinkable. By declaring himself Lucifer, not Samael, he’s become a rallying point for anyone who disagrees with Father. It begins with Lucifer but it doesn’t end with him. Why can’t any of you understand! If Lucifer doesn’t stop, IT WILL NEVER END!”_
> 
> _“Be easy Uriel,” Amenadiel soothed. “We’ll do something about this ‘Lucifer’ nonsense. We just have to make Sam realize that Father’s right. Father’s always right.”_
> 
> _“Even when it comes to His stupid new pets,” he added._
> 
> _The three of them, plus Remiel who was practically Amenadiel’s shadow, confronted Lucifer a short time later. “We are God and Goddess’ children. We’ve done great and marvelous works, forming Material from the firment. Why shouldn’t we be granted the privilege of choice? Something which mortals are given as a basic right.”_

“You told us to Uriel! It was all your idea!” Michael accused furiously, desperately.

> _They dragged Lucifer away from his rapt audience. “You have to stop this insanity: Speaking out against Father, questioning Him,” Amenadiel scolded. He, Uriel and Remiel flanked the First Born, adding their weight to his disapproval. “Father has given you a vital purpose. Who are you to reject it, Samael?”_
> 
> _Lucifer looked to Uriel, as if for support. “Father won’t tell them what they’re supposed to do but if they do wrong they’re to be punished, by ME.” And for the first time he noticed the bruised, injured look to his rebellious twin’s eyes. “Father commanded me to love them and in practically the same breath he told me I was to punish them. Don’t you understand? I’m to love them but they won’t love me back!”_
> 
> _“You put being loved by these mortals above Father’s commands?” Amenadiel demanded harshly._
> 
> _“I don’t want to do it! Why should I do Father’s dirty work?” Lucifer exclaimed. “Why should they love Him and hate me when I’m only doing as Father commands?”_
> 
> _“You were made for this task,” Amenadiel said. “It will suit you.”_
> 
> _“It will happen that way, tell them Uri!” Lucifer begged._
> 
> _“You will do what you’re told!”_
> 
> _Against the four of them Lucifer never stood a chance. Even so he pulled his blows against Remiel and Uriel anyway, they were of the third tier and Lucifer had always been careful with their younger siblings. It wasn’t long before the four of them had him pinned to the ground, “I warned you, Sam,” Uriel said. “I warned you that it would be this way if you wouldn’t change.”_
> 
> _Lucifer smiled, “This way, at least they’ll know it wasn’t my choice. This way they’ll know I didn’t want to love them and hurt them.”_
> 
> _“He won’t stay where he belongs unless we make him,” Remiel said._

In the penthouse Michael remembered the silken, softness of Lucifer’s feather under his fingers and the straight, strong bones beneath them. He remembered the resistance as he pulled them wide, the pop as the joint dislocated. The snap as he twisted until he felt the bone break. He remembered the choked gagging noise that came from his twin as shock robbed him of the voice to scream at what had been done to him.

“I didn’t even really disagree with Sam,” he told Uriel, grief stricken as Hell forced him to remember things he’d spent eons forgetting.

“Is that why you left me alone? Left me to be beaten? Left me to go mad? Left me to die?” Uriel asked cruelly. “Because you blamed me for what you did? ...Or did I die and then went mad?”

* * *

As Charlotte and John led Remiel along with them a tall, dark-skinned man intercepted them with a relieved grin, “Ms. Richards, my grandparents were out of their loop and they wanted to talk to me about my father. Whatever you said to them really helped!”

“What was that about?” Remiel asked when the man had moved on.

“Societal guilt,” Charlotte explained. “Plenty of people up here who died without significant guilt because they hadn’t done anything wrong by the lights of the society they lived in but then they start interacting with others up here, the generations that came after them especially, and they come to realize that they were wrong. Horribly wrong sometimes.”

Remiel frowned. “Why are they here if they did something so terrible? We have systems in place to screen out your psychopaths and fanatics.”

“They’re not bad people, they’re just products of the place and time where they lived,” Charlotte said. “Genesis might have gotten the details wrong-”

John grimaced, “And everyone here who’s spent any time talking to Ms. Eve knows the details. All the details. Way too many details, especially given him and my Chloe.” Remiel wrinkled her nose, she’d heard her brother rhapsodizing about those same ‘details’ before his Fall.

“-But it made it’s point: What damns us is the _knowledge_ of good and evil,” Charlotte finished. “Ends-justify-the-means/for-the-greater-good bullshit doesn’t cut it but if you can honestly say you didn’t _know_ what you did was wrong, that’s good enough for Heaven. The problem is _staying_ ignorant, what you have to do, have to give up to manage it.”

“You don’t go to Hell for guilt you develop after you’re here,” John said. “But you can certainly bring your own personal Hell here. Take Isaiah’s grandparents,” he nodded after the man who’d spoken to them. “They were plantation owners before the Civil War. Their son, Isahiah’s father fell in love with a slave, he helped her escape out west where they raised Isaiah together. The tragedy of it is Isaiah’s father isn’t up here. Led to some real ugliness between the mother and the grandparents. That’s where I came into it. Not so much call for police up here but I’m not out of a job either.

“As time passed the grandparents came to believe the mother was right, that they’d damned their son to Hell trying to guilt him out of following what he knew in his heart to be right.” John sighed, “Trading stories we see too much of that: People who were a bit ahead of their time but lacked the strength or conviction to act on their beliefs or who were left feeling that they’d betrayed where they came from, people who aren’t _here_. Being born into a stable society raises your odds of making it to Heaven over those who were born on the cusp of change, even a change for the better.”

“That doesn’t seem right,” Remiel said then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking horrified. Charlotte and John traded a knowing look.

“It doesn’t seem right to people here either,” John said. “Especially after they have to start questioning things they spent their whole lives holding to be true.”

“Believe me, no one likes asking those sorts of questions,” Charlotte said. She gestured to the city around them. “This is only one small part of the mortal domain, we call it the open sector. It’s, well, it’s populated by those of us who aren’t living in some form of denial. There are a ton of enclaves up here, formed around certain beliefs for the very purpose of avoiding those sorts of questions.”

“It’s the nature of this place to try to keep us happy,” John said. “Given half a chance it’ll substitute a comfortable illusion for an unhappy truth. But some of us aren’t contented with living lies.”

“For a certain definition of ‘living’,” Charlotte added with an ironic grin. Then her smile fell away, “Some of us can’t accept a lie, even one that protects us. I actually have a lot of respect for Violet and Monty, Isaiah’s grandparents. It would have been easy for them to fall into a loop where their son was here or, heck, one where he was still a kid and they’d never fought in the first place. They could have let Heaven steal the knowledge that the guilt they burdened him with dragged him to Hell. But they didn’t do that, they hung on to the realization that he’d been right and their entire way of life was wrong, held on to it until their Loop was, for all practical purposes, a Hell-Loop.”

“The institution of slavery in the US is a particularly bad case because it was so deeply pervasive,” John said. “If you were born into that time and place you were involved, slavery was a part of your life. But most societies have something they at least condoned that time’s proven to be- Not just wrong, _wicked_ for lack of a better word. We don’t get some blanket enlightenment coming through the Gates and once you’re here there’s really no where else to go. Anyone who doesn’t want to hide in some Loop has got to find a way to accept and adapt. There are a lot of Loops up here.”

“Given my background I hate the idea of giving up on anyone,” Charlotte confided. “Violet and Monty wouldn’t have been suffering if they were truly bad people. They realized that they were wrong and it was tearing them apart that their son ended up paying the price for it. There’s nothing we can do for him but they’re still within reach. They’ve done the hardest part already: accepting that their beliefs were wrong. Now they just have to learn to move past it.”


	6. Lilith

A chain bound Michael to the Gates of Heaven, the air stank of burnt flesh and Uriel lay just beyond his reach, broken and slowly bleeding out. “You have the key, you idiot,” despite looking barely alive, Uriel’s voice was mocking and disdainful. “Even if it was what Father wanted, you didn’t have to do what you did. Sam did what he wanted… So did I, in the end. When I thought Mother was coming back I did what I had to. I knew I couldn’t count on any of you to look out for me…. I knew Father would forgive her for what she’d done.”

“And look how that turned out!” Michael protested. “You destroyed. Sam exiled, mutilated by his demons.”

“You did that, exiled Sam, it wasn't Father,” Uriel said. “I wouldn’t have gone after Mother if you’d left me any other choice. Father never says anything, he never does anything. Have you ever wondered why that is Mike?”

“You won’t make me doubt Father, Uri, you won’t,” Michael said shaking his head.

The gates creaked open and women stepped through. She was pale, as if all color had been drained from her. When she smiled she revealed sharp, white teeth between bloodlessly pale lips. “Are you enjoying your accommodations my King?” she asked slyly.

“You think I’m Lucifer?” Michael snapped, drawing himself up to his full, intimidating height. “I always knew demons were stupid.”

The woman shrugged languidly, “One angel or another, it’s all the same to me. Even Dromos’ plan with the baby wasn’t entirely idiotic. But if you’d ever spent time with any of the hellions I birthed, you'd know why it wouldn’t have been my first choice. But you?” She smiled slowly. “All I have to do with you, to get my perfect king, is break you. And that, my lovely, will be a pleasure. Hell exists to break the likes of you.”

“Do your worst demon,” Michael challenged.

“Lilith,” the woman corrected. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, you should learn my name... angel.”

She looked around herself then took a deep breath, tasting the char on in the air. “You’re the one who broke my last King for me. I would thank you… If you’d actually done the job right. Lucifer has been a pain in my ass ever since he stopped snarling and started talking.”

“Don’t worry,” Lilith smiled and reached out as if to pat Michael’s hand. He drew back before she could touch him. “I’ll make sure your mind is so thoroughly shattered not even your Father would be able to put the pieces together again.”

“Don’t worry,” Uriel echoed. “We’ll be kinder to you than we were to Samael. Once it’s over you’ll never know how broken you’ve become.”

* * *

“Heaven’s a weed out process,” John told Remiel quietly. “If you have too much guilt and, understand, guilt’s less about what you might have done than your ability to cope with it. People can make terrible, terrible mistakes and recognize that truth, take hold of their lives and fix what they did wrong or find a way to make amends and none of us here begrudge their presence among us. The ones that come back from mistakes, they’ve earned their place.”

Charlotte smiled at him, with gratitude in her eyes.

“You angels take care of the ones who’ve done awful things but lack the ability to feel guilt for them or who are a bit too good at justifying things to themselves and we appreciate that,” John continued.

“Well, we certainly don’t want them around,” Remiel said. Her mouth twisted with revulsion, “Especially the ones that tell themselves that they’re doing it in Father’s name when they wreck their evil on the world.”

“We’ve noticed,” Charlotte said dryly. “And thank you. It’s not the only justification us humans have come up with in our history but you do sort out the others as well, if not with such… extreme prejudice.”

“So guilt bars those who don’t have the life-skills to get up after they fall down and make something better of themselves,” John resumed. “You guys deal with any truly evil people who slip through the cracks. But that’s not the end of the weed out process.”

“What do you mean?” Remiel asked. “You said it yourself: No one falls from Heaven, even if they discover guilt here.”

“It’s the Heavenly-Loops,” Charlotte said. “If you’re too accepting of what’s in front of you, if you’re too inflexible to accept a reality larger than the one you grew up with… If you don’t want to embrace that life has downs as well as ups then you end up in a Heavenly-Loop. Sometimes we can reach people and pull them out but sometimes we can’t and some people, even if we can reach them, just keep falling back into their Loop. The temptation of bliss is too much.”

“There are some Loops that swallow whole enclaves here,” John continued. “Eve says it’s just something that happens and she’s watched it over and over again: Time and changing attitudes move Heaven too far from a society. Exceptional individuals separate themselves and adapt.” He gestured to the fantastic city around them, “Those people are the ones who build all this but the further Heaven gets from where they came from- Well, the fewer people there are who are able to accept the changes and remain happy. Their Enclaves close off. No one in, no one out. We assume they’re happy, after all those Enclaves continue to emit light, but no one knows for sure. We assume that the closing of an Enclave creates a sort of Grand Loop where the people inside it are protected from having to deal with any more change.”

“Adam and Eve, Seth and a number of their other children, grandchildren and so down to Enoch are different-” Charlotte interjected

“Don’t forget Mehujael, Jubal and Tubalcain from Cain’s original line of descent,” John remarked. “He probably had other kids over the eons but if they’re kicking around up here they never knew who he really was.”

“Frankly I’d rather forget Cain,” Charlotte said.

“It’s not his kids’ fault, who he was, what he did,” John reminded her gently. He turned to Remiel, “Your Dad might have gone for all that ‘sins of the father’ garbage back when Noah cursed Ham but not anymore. I figure He’s seen all the fucked up shit that came out of that one and changed His policies accordingly.”

Remiel shook her head. “Father had to have known what would happen. He had to.”

“Definition of omniscience, I know,” John admitted. “But given the choice between an omniscient God who knows how mankind’ll abuse an act he, to all appearances, supported so that even thousands of years later it’ll be cited as justification for humans who want to put themselves above their fellow man and went along with it anyway- Well given the choice between believing in that God and believing in a less omniscient God who didn’t know ahead of time what his support of that curse would lead to- Between those two, and given how much messed up stuff humans have justified with religion, I’ll choose the less omniscient God who can fail to see how things’ll play out and who can change.”

“It's not Father’s fault how you mortals misinterpret Him,” Remiel declared, drawing herself up like an offended cat.

“How about His miscommunications with His own kids?” John asked. “For example Amenadiel thinking he was carrying out your Father’s Will when he revived that piece of shit Malcolm Graham.”

“Amenadiel says he made himself fall and restored his own powers,” Remiel said uncomfortably. “Father had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Maybe He should have,” John said quietly. “After all He’s the one who raised you. He might be all our Father in some sense but He’s your Father in every sense. He's got a different obligation to you angels.”

Charlotte noticed Remiel’s growing edginess and abandoned the tangent. “So anyway, Adam and Eve's kid, Seth seems like a poster boy for a Heavenly Loop to me. Very obedient, very unquestioning- But he never falls into a Loop.”

“What’s wrong with being obedient?” Remiel demanded.

John sighed, “Those of us who just come up; which is most of us; started our afterlife in a Loop. If you don’t question things you never realize what it is and maybe that’s where we’re meant to be but… But the happiness there always seemed empty to me. My Loop, it’s well, it’s Penelope and Chloe and quiet days on the job where there wasn’t much call for a cop. It was made up of my memories of my family and the memories I might have made if I hadn’t been shot but it’s not real. My wife and daughter aren’t here, they’re still living life. In my Loop I give Chloe away at her wedding and hold my first grandchild but the child I imagined wasn’t Trixie, I didn’t even get a glimpse of her until after I’d broken free of my Loop. It was all an illusion based on my imaginings. I don’t want the illusion of my family, I want to see them again someday. Hell, I want the rough spots. I figured out I was in a Loop because Penelope and I not having our little differences? Chloe not being the headstrong girl I knew her to be? It was easy but it wasn’t them.”

“You miss fighting with your mate and child?” Remiel asked in disbelief.

“More than anything,” John said. “I’m in no hurry to see them again, they have their lives to live. I can wait, for me our separation isn’t really more than a- Well, if I’d gone military rather than the police, it’s like an overseas posting. It may feel like forever but it’s only a season of my life and then I’ll be with them again.”

Charlotte snickered, “You should meet some of the not insignificant population of philosophers around here. They’re almost as immune to Heavenly-Loops as the first couple generations and I think it's because their notion of bliss is a good debate. There’s only so much stimulation to be had playing Devil’s Advocate to yourself in a Loop. But are you really so surprised that we like arguing? From what I’ve seen you and your siblings do nothing but quarrel.”

“We don’t _like_ it,” Remiel protested. “It’s just without Dad weighing in how else do we know what’s right?”

“Maybe we’re better off without that sort of certainty,” Charlotte said. “I know it’s a radical thought but your Dad gave us all brains; even if Lucifer gets blamed for humanity's moral sense; maybe we’re supposed to use the brains in our skull to figure out what's right before we do a thing instead of just the guilt that comes afterwards.”

* * *

Lilith crouched in front of a campfire, slowly turning a haunch of meat on a primitive spit. Casually she glanced over her shoulder at Michael. The angel stood at the very edge of the circle of light cast by the fire. Beyond the light, there was nothing, nowhere further for him to retreat. On the other side of the fire Uriel stood,as if guarding the gate behind him. “You weren’t actually close enough to smell your twin’s flesh burn,” she commented. “But the smell of cooking meat still revolts you. You imagine that’s how it must have smelled.”

“I thought Hell was supposed to be Loops,” Michael said haughtily. “Am I in the right place?”

“You angels, always so literal,” Lilith replied, with an aggravated sigh. “Lucifer. Uriel. Duty. Love: They twist around you in an unending mobius loop of guilt. Your Father provides us all with what we need, does he not?”

Michael couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

Lilith glanced up at him coquettishly from beneath her lashes, “And when He’s being particularly cruel He gives us what we _want_ , even in Hell. You want this. You need this. All these eons, you shut it out of your mind. You told anyone who asked that you had done right, executed your Father’s will and had no regrets but it was always there.”

Michael remembered Remiel, jumping into the fight for no other reason than she’d always idolized Amenadiel. He remembered how, after Lucifer had burned, they’d decided that she could never know that they had doubts, never know that they hadn’t _meant_ for that to happen. No one could know, the only way they could go on was if it were Father’s will that their brother burned.

“You knew the truth. Shoved it down in the corner, yes, but it was never gone.” Lilith tipped the spit so that the meat fell into the fire, sizzling and smoking.

A light flashed across the sky, not a falling star.

“All these eons, in the back of your mind you’ve wondered,” Lilith purred. “ _‘What did I do?’_ I could show you.”

The ground shook.

“The crater where your twin hit ground still remains. His burning body crashed into the Infernal Plane, the force of the impact burned the soil to ash for miles and flung it into the air, it’s still falling even today.”

A sullen glow illuminated the horizon. Lilith crept closer to Michael, directing his gaze toward it. “Lucifer, the Light-bringer, always. Our ground-bound sun, the first light to touch Hell. The fire started in his soul. Fire to burn away what was diseased. It took years to burn Samael away.

“As he lay in that pit, burning, the heat radiating from him melted sulfur from the surrounding rock, made it run like water and then boil. The choking stench of it filled the air. You could go and see what you did, I would love to take you.”

Michael told himself to look away, not to fall into Lilith’s trap, but he couldn’t bring himself to. As he stared the land rushed past him bringing the glow closer.

“This door isn’t just yours, it’s his and even your mother’s for a moment. All of your guilt, your memories, locked behind this door. You’ve wondered for eons, how it felt when your twin Fell.” Lilith stretched up on her toes to whisper into Michael’s ear, “I could show you.”

Michael stood on a precipice above a roiling, murky lake, something glowed in its depths casting a sullen illumination across the barren landscape of Hell. “For so long, you’ve wanted to know how he felt,” Lilith whispered.

And he was falling.

> _Reflexively he tried to spread his wings, tried to halt his descent or at least shift forms to one fit to pass between planes of existence. For a moment it seemed to work then broken bones gave way under the strain. Agony shot through him. As he continued to fall his broken wings twisted around him like a shroud. Terror bubbled up in his gut as he plummeted without hope of control. Something else broke deep inside him and everything went haywire, his blood became the stuff of stars but his flesh remained suitable for dealing with mortals. And as he burned from the inside out he screamed and screamed._
> 
> _He hit ground with a bone shattering thud. Solid rock melted, flowed and vaporized around him. His blood still burned. The melting rocks flowed back over him, thick as tar and hot in his lungs. He was immortal, he didn’t need to breathe but oh how he wanted to. He clawed mindlessly at the ground trying to pull himself free but it melted under his hands and there was no escape._
> 
> _Finally, finally the star stuff in his blood was quenched. The burning stopped but as it did the lake above him solidified. He clawed at the hardening rocks. His broken wings pulled him back as he struggled through the thickening muck. The awful fluid filling his lungs solidified agonizingly as well._

Michael found himself standing back on the precipice gasping for breath, wondering how his lungs hadn’t ruptured. He saw Lilith watching him with an eager gleam in her eyes and pushed the memory aside. He forced his breathing to ease. “Thank you. I had wondered about that for a very long time,” he said.

“Was it better or worse than you had imagined?” Lilith asked coyly.

Michael tilted his head back to give her a condescending look, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mother of Demons.”

“The worst is yet to come,” Lilith said, meeting his challenge.


	7. If I had a Nickel

Once again Michael found himself standing on the precipice above the hardened lake. Lilith watched him with clear anticipation, nearly licking her lips. Michael kept his expression impassive as he waited to see Lucifer claw his way out of the lake.

A wordless shriek pierced the skies. Michael shivered, knowing it had been heard all the way to Heaven. They’d always believed that it had been the fire that had ripped the agonized cry from Lucifer. It had been that cry, lancing through the minds of all the angels that had broken Amenadiel from his paralysis and sent him flying after Lucifer. From their perspective it had taken only moments but now Michael knew, due to the time dilation between the Emphrael, Mortal and Infernal planes, that it had been months or even years, if Lilith could be trusted, for Lucifer. That it hadn’t been burning that had wrenched the cry from him but the molten lake hardening around him, in him.

_‘Surely now,’_ Michael thought, scanning the ground for his brother’s emergence. He wondered why Lilith hadn’t forced him to experience this as well as Lucifer’s Fall. The sound of rocks falling echoed across the empty expanse. Michael frowned in confusion as he noticed a small cave-in marring the otherwise smooth surface of the hardened lake.

Then, finally, Lucifer appeared. Not digging his way free of the lake as Michael expected, he simply appeared. A bundle of sharpened, disarrayed feathers crouched on the shore of the lake like a riled hedgehog. For several long minutes, or maybe years in Hell’s reference-less existence, nothing changed. Michael watched his twin crouch there unmoving, a cloak of glowing, razor-sharp feathers bristling against anything other, as if everything were a threat.

Then, slowly Lucifer unfolded himself and Michael jerked back in shock. He’d seen his brother’s burn-reddened form before and knew to expect it, but not this. Not the crooked, crippled wings, healed wrong after being broken. Not the way the burned flesh stretched tight over bones, all fat and muscle consumed. Not the crusts of rock merged into his raw, burned flesh. Not talons! Michael remembered Amenadiel’s angelic self-actualization theory and wondered if Lucifer had unconsciously reformed himself into this creature of jagged, razor-sharp edges in his efforts, unsuccessful efforts to dig himself out. He wondered how Lucifer had escaped the lake. Michael tried not to think about the brief moment when Lucifer’s eyes met his across the lake and the absence of _self_ that he’d seen in them.

“Glorious isn’t he?” Lilith purred as they watched the creature that had been Michael’s twin mindlessly kill every demon that came near him. Massive creatures that warped reality around them, that bled ‘other’-ness. Humans looked in the mirror and assumed that they understood what it meant to be made in God’s image but even the most bizarre dweller in the depths of Earth’s seas was also God’s creature. The demons Lucifer slew were _NOT_ formed in God’s image. Michael remembered fighting creatures like them long ago, before Lucifer’s Fall. Hard fights, the likes of which he hadn’t faced in eons. He remembered, more than once, being dragged back to the Silver City by his Father’s power, more dead than alive. He watched Lucifer’s sharp feathers, glowing with- Was it still Celestial Fire or was the Fall when Lucifer’s fire became Hellfire? -Slicing easily through the powerful, ancient demons. He saw that his brother was too deep in madness to acknowledge his own injuries, making him an implacable, unstoppable foe.

_‘Was this Father’s plan? To end the threat by sacrificing Lucifer?’_

Uriel stared solemnly at him from the shadows, a gate looming behind him. “Trapping Lucifer in Hell was our plan, Brother. Don’t try to shift the blame.” Then Uriel smiled and the expression on his normally serious face was disturbing. “Why, the next thing you know you’ll be saying that the Devil made you do it.” Uriel laughed, cruel and without humor. Michael cringed. Lilith eyed the memory of the destroyed angel calculatingly.

* * *

“The sad thing is, Lucifer is drawn to the sort of people who do best in Heaven,” John said. “When he makes to Earth and you lot leave him be long enough to start making friends, it’s almost always people he’s never going to see again because they end up here.”

Remiel thought for a moment, “Whatever Lucifer might tell himself, he’s still an angel,” she said. “It’s only natural that those who remind him of home would appeal.”

Charlotte snorted. “No offense but most angels don’t like us,” she said. She pointed to the sky and the old Silver City perched on the hills above and removed from the mortal city. “You’re up there, we’re down here. Most of you won’t have a thing to do with us and those who do only do because it’s your Father’s will.”

“I get along well enough with Raz,” John said.

Charlotte shrugged, “His endless search for hidden knowledge makes him something of a detective, you have a connection. Rafael gets along well enough with Doctors and Healers of all sorts too. Those souls that meet Azrael say she seems like a good kid… In the three or four minutes they spend with her before she drops them off at the Lesser Gates. But Lucifer makes friends with people, with mortals.”

“Mortals say he tempts them into sin,” Remiel pointed out.

“No, he does not,” Charlotte corrected firmly. “I’ve asked around, to make sure my experience wasn’t the exception. That it wasn’t just about my body housing your Mother’s soul for a while there. Lucifer encourages the people he interacts with to live freely and without regret. He likes people who are creative or driven and true to themselves. From what I’ve seen, he loathes thoses who make a life of harming others, those who belong in Hell. And he avoids the sort who fall too easily into Heavenly-Loops; his reaction to unquestioning obedience is somewhere between disdain and boredom.”

“But obedience and faith is what Father desires,” Remiel protested. “Perhaps these Heavenly-Loops are where you belong.”

“I’ll say it again: No thank you,” John said. “I want to be here to greet my real wife when she passes on, not be making time with an imagining of her.”

“Sure we quarrel, even here. You and your siblings could have stood a few more repetitions of ‘use your words’ when you were kids-”

“We were never children,” Remiel objected.

“But you sure as hell disagree with each other. I know your parents are separated and,” Charlotte tapped the side of her head and grimaced, “And I was left with the impression that it had an awful lot to do with not being able to work through disagreements but, believe me, disagreement isn’t inherently bad. If we all agreed all the time would we really be individuals any more? If we all thought exactly the same could we even call it having relationships or would it just be mastrabatory stroking? Endlessly hearing your own opinions echoed back at you.”

* * *

He was falling- Again. Michael spread sharp-edged wings of night, not in an attempt to control his fall but to slice through the illusion. “NO! I know this already!” he roared and suddenly he, Lilith and Uriel were back in Lucifer’s penthouse.

“Well, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that you’re, as your twin would say, one of the complicated ones,” Lilith remarked. “You do know the rules after all and you’ve had such a very, very long time to develop coping mechanisms as you failed to come to terms with your guilt.”

Michael turned and started walking toward the balcony doors, “I have no guilt, Mother of Demons. It was Father’s Will, Lucifer had no right to deny Him.” His voice was ragged, grieving. “If it hadn’t been Father’s Will He would have intervened, He wouldn’t have allowed Sam to burn if it wasn’t His Will.”

“ _'It was God’s Will'_ ,” Lilith parroted Michael then laughed nastily. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard that- Well, money isn’t worth a thing down here but I’d have a stack that would dwarf the Tower of Babylon.”

Uriel shook his head in exasperation, “You’ve always been dense Michael.”

> _In their Father’s expansive workshop the dark haired angel stood between the Presences of his Parents, his brilliant white wings bristling defensively._
> 
> _“SAMAEL, YOU WILL DO AS YOU’RE TOLD.”_
> 
> _Mother stood there and said nothing. As if he hadn’t sided with Her. -He’d never trust Her to be on his side again. Never!- He stamped his foot angrily. “I won’t! If they have a choice, so should I! And I chose no! Do it yourself, Father!”_
> 
> _The streets of the Silver City trembled-_

“Tell me Mike, who was it that was angry?” Uriel asked.

Lilith leaned on Uriel’s shoulder, smiling at Michael with wicked amusement. “Did you throw your twin away because his temper tantrum scared you?” she asked mockingly.

“That’s not what happened!” Michael protested. “Lucifer snuck back into Father’s workshop dozens of times in the months before he Fell-”

> _Amenadiel holding Lucifer down so he couldn’t move. The bones of his twin’s wings twisted until they fractured under his grip._

“Mortals call them spiral fractures,” Uriel said. “If Sam’s Detective saw them in X-Rays, their pattern would speak to her of abuse. But sure, say Lucifer ‘fell’.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Michael protested. “You told us Uri, you said you tried to talk sense into him. You said we had to stop him.”

“Just like an angel,” Lilith sneered, “It’s everyone’s fault… Except his own.”

“You don’t know everything,” Uriel told Michael seriously. “You don’t know what happened in the lake.” And Michael was Falling, again.


	8. Mazikeen

Michael stood on the edge of the solidified lake gasping for breath. Watching, once again, as Lucifer appeared on the shore, nothing more than a mass of defensive reflexes and sharp edges.

“You still don’t see,” Uriel said, shaking his head sadly.

“Shut up,” Michael hissed. “You and the Mother of Demons just want to force me to relive Lucifer’s Fall over and over again.” He focused his will on the Loop, forcing it to progress as Lucifer mindlessly slaughtered his way through dozens of Greater Demons. “There has to be something. Something changed.” He forced himself into Lucifer’s memories, spotty and damaged as they were, and commanded them to play out before him, until:

> _Warily he watched the little scrap of Darkness filtered through a once-human womb as it crept closer. It had twig-like limbs and patchy hair. It clutched a Hell-forged claw in one hand. A second claw hung from a cord tied round it’s waist, the only article of clothing that it wore. The Darkness in it was slowly consuming the human, rotting it away. It had been following him for some time._
> 
> _One of the abominations approached, drawn by the Light emanating from his crippled wings. He tasted the approaching creature’s hatred and desire for his Light and bared his teeth defiantly in response. He flared his wings threateningly and the ever-present throbbing pain from bones broken and healed but never properly set erupted into agony as he forced them to move. Twisted and maimed as they were, his wings were useless for flight but they were still formidable weapons._
> 
> _A tentacle reached for him. He spun on his heel, the starlight captured in his feathers flared, not as bright as they’d been but still enough to slice through the tentacle like it was hot wax. The scrap ducked into the shadow of a rock to escape the Light. His muscles spasmed, unable to fully extend his wing, and he stumbled. A second tentacle lashed across his stomach. He grabbed it with clawed hands and snarled as he dug in until ichor oozed between his fingers._
> 
> _Then the scrap of Darkness threw itself into the battle. It stabbed it’s hand-claw into the abomination’s central mass as it shrieked defiance to the skies. He ripped off the tentacle he’d grabbed and thrust his fist into the bloody gap where it had been, stabbing deep then spreading his clawed fingers, doing as much damage as possible. He and the scrap kept ripping and stabbing at the massive abomination until it fell and lay still._
> 
> _He drew back, folding his mangled wings awkwardly against his back, a position that was as close to comfortable as misaligned bones permitted. As the rush of battle faded he felt the blood trickling down his side from where his skin, frail new scar tissue that it was, had split over a rib and pressed a hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding. He snarled in frustration as his unfamiliar claws dug into the tender flesh and left the wound to clot on it’s own._
> 
> _While he did the scrap of Darkness remained crouched over the abomination they’d just killed. It continued hacking at the corpse with it’s- her hand claw. Crudely, hurriedly she cut away chunks of the dead abomination’s flesh and shoved them into her mouth before they could dissolve back into the Primordial Darkness that had formed the abomination. His stomach roiling, he watched her gorged herself on the corpse until it had dissolved. Then she sat back on her haunches and licked her fingers clean, the Darkness in her apparently satiated by this act of cannibalism._
> 
> _The Scrap grew bolder about following him as time passed. Her presence didn’t grate on him the way abominations did, it tugged on buried memories of a misty, distant time where he’d been more than pain and fear. Having the Scrap around was… Good? Meanwhile, fed a steady diet of abominations the Darkness in the Scrap ceased to prey on the human and her two halves came into balance. Her limbs grew stronger and straighter, her living eye grew sharp and her hair became glossy and thick._
> 
> _Time became measured in the Scrap’s development as he watched her leave behind the traces of being unfinished about her and grew into herself as a warrior. She grew quick and strong and sure. She patched his injuries as needed and she no longer hesitated to jump into battle at his side. And that was very good as his other measure of time was the slow dimming of the Light in his broken wings and the gnawing feel of weakness and lack that slowly crept up on him. There was something missing, something he needed. His Light was his last and best defense against the Darkness and it was guttering._
> 
> _He watched, one day, as the Scrap tore into their most recent kill. Then, tentatively, he imitated her, ripping a chunk of flesh from the dissolving carcass and stuffing it in his mouth. He gagged on the foul taste but forced it down until his belly was full. Before they’d crossed the next valley he was on his knees retching the Darkness he’d consumed back up. But there was nothing else in the barren land and so he tried again and again. He learned to only take the smallest of bites, until gradually his body acclimated to it’s new diet._

With shame, Michael remembered the rations he’d brought down with him when he’d decided to watch the Gates of Hell until his twin was recovered and the blissful assumption that Lucifer had somehow been equipped to survive Hell when they’d thrown him to the Infernal Plane with nothing and no way to escape.

Behind Michael, nearly forgotten, Lilith studied Uriel curiously. “I was counting on the pain of reliving the Fall to break him… You’re quite clever for a memory.”

“Just a memory,” Uriel echoed with a smirk. “And he still hasn’t realized the kicker… But we shouldn’t be too hard on Michael, Lucifer hasn’t figured it out either, even after eons… And neither have you.”

Michael allowed himself to be drawn back into his twin’s memories as Lucifer and his Scrap were ambushed by five of the abominations.

> _He fought with aching wings and clawed hands. This time the tentacles had mouths that bit at him even as they flailed him and tried to entangle him. The Scrap was quick and clever, plunging her hand-claws deep into soft spots left in the abominations’ bodies when he ripped their tentacles off. But even with the two of them fighting in sync there were so many attacks coming from all directions. He flared the starlight in his wings to burn the hateful Darkness but his Scrap screamed as well. There was no choice but to reign in his Light._
> 
> _He fended off a spear-like tentacle with the back of a wing. The Scrap darted close to him, letting him cover her back, her sharp eyes searching for the chance to do damage. They took down one… Two- She growled at the sight of the abomination flesh dissolving before she could consume her fill. He saw the disperse Darkness being breathed in by the remaining three abominations and how they swelled with it._
> 
> _A tentacle slipped beneath his guard and sliced deeply into his gut, spilling his innards onto the rocky, ash-covered ground. He felt a pull, yanking him away from this place, from his Scrap and howled in outrage._

“No!” Michael cried. Denying the familiarity of the pull Lucifer had felt he dove back into the memory.

> _As he lost the battle of tug-a-war with the Pull he saw his Scrap dive into a tiny crevasse in the ground and hoped. He flared his wings as brightly as he could, hoping she’d survive and they’d die. Then he was being pulled away. It hurt, his mangled wings screamed as he was ripped from the Infernal Plane. For a brief moment he saw a shining silver city and absolute terror stole the breath from his chest:_ ‘They'll make me Fall again.’ _Hurt that was more than the familiar hurt of his body cut through his soul. He struggled madly against the Pull’s hold, heedless of the damage he did to himself in the process- And the Pull let him go._

“NO! NO!” Crumpling to the ground, Michael clawed at his eyes, his ears.

Uriel leaned over his brother’s huddled form and whispered lovingly, “And now you know.”

“You lie!” Michael hissed. He glared, blood running down his face from where his own nails had broken his skin. His wings flared wide forcing both Lilith and Uriel to scramble away from feathers turned to gleaming, obsidian knives.

Violently he thrust himself back into the memory, fleeing his realization.

> _He woke somewhere back in the Infernal Plane, somewhere quiet. His guts were still hanging out so he shoved them back in and slept. When he woke again the new scar had faded into the tapestry of scars that made up his flesh and his wings hurt less. For a moment they looked whole but he knew better, a second glance revealed the broken mass of blades he’d become accustomed to._
> 
> _He got up and walked away. His gaze automatically sought out his Scrap but she wasn’t there. Without her fugitive footsteps trailing after him it was too quiet and he felt a fierce hatred toward the Pull for taking him from her. The Scrap’s absence, despite the strange ache it left, changed nothing. The starlight in his wings still drew abominations to him. When they came he destroyed them or if they were too numerous the Pull yanked him away and dumped him in another part of Hell for the cycle to begin again. There was no knowing how long it continued like that. There was no diurnal cycle in Hell, no weather beyond the constant ash-fall. He didn’t bother to count the number of abominations killed. The landscape changed around him, becoming craggy with occasional doors set into the rock faces. The change meant nothing to him, he didn’t know or care if the change happened in a heartbeat or a geological age. Until he looked up from a kill and found his Scrap watching from a nearby ridge._
> 
> _He stepped back from the kill but didn’t move on and cautiously she crept down from the ridge, knife in hand and ate her fill. The next time he felt the need for sleep he pulled her close, under the shelter of his wing. When he woke the feathers on the insides of his wings were soft… And grimey from the ever present ash worked into them by the Scrap’s curious, probing fingers. The grime made his wings itch but it didn’t stop him from keeping the Scrap close when he had to close his eyes, having lost her once he knew he wanted her._
> 
> _In time, others like his Scrap found them. The abominations were so large that they tended to dissolve back into Darkness before his Scrap could eat all of the kill so neither of them tried to chase the new scraps off. Eventually their numbers grew to the point where even the most ambitious ambushes by the abominations were unlikely to succeed, even temporarily. The number of hungry scraps following him grew and grew until they were hunting the abominations rather than waiting for them to come to them. Then one came who was like the scraps but not-_

“You,” Michael accused, letting the flow of memories fade to glare at Lilith.

“Of course,” she said with a small shrug. “Whether I want it or not, simply living in Hell, soaking in the Darkness banished here causes me to quicken. I didn’t ask for the little burdens and I kicked them out as soon as they were able to haul themselves away from my den rather than drawing predators to me. Why would I ever care for them? They were all doomed from birth, those who were the most successful at escaping being consumed by Hell’s native population ended up eaten away from the inside out by the Darkness that sired them. Of course I became curious when some of my children began to survive and thrive.

“I found them trailing around behind an addled, barely cognizant angel; Children who’d manage to half tame a dire-wolf. And him, the Lightbringer, the breaker of the Darkness, sent into Hell,” Lilith grinned, “Truly a gift from God to me and mine.”

“Shut up fool,” Uriel growled.

“I took him and made him KING. My puppet king, elevating the Lilim to the shadow rulers of the Infernal Realm,” Lilith ranted. “Then Lucifer ran off to play on the Mortal Plane and the Lilim dropped back, nearly to the lowest rung of the food chain again. That’s why I’ll break you, angel: So my children and I have a future as something other than a meal.”

Uriel erupted into a mass of wings and tentacles. “Enough!” He thrust Lilith straight through the door.

“What are you?” Michael gasped. For a moment he saw the ash-fall of Hell through the balcony doors of Lucifer’s penthouse and then it was gone. The balcony became the door Michael installed on his own quarters eons ago to keep his younger siblings out.

The wings and tentacles pinned Michael against the opposite wall. “Let’s try this again,” Uriel’s voice said from the swirling center of the mass.


	9. Realization

“Remi there you are!” Haniel exclaimed as she landed in the grassy street in front of Remiel, Charlotte and John Decker. “The Fourth Tiers stationed at the Gates of Hell were panicking, you and Michael just vanished. What happened?”

Remiel shook her head, “We went after the archdemon that defeated Lucifer but we got ambushed, we never saw it. I don’t know how I ended up in the Mortal Sector of Heaven.” She glanced back at John and Charlotte, “They’ve been very kind, very informative. They’d saved one of our dropped feathers and used it to heal me. Didn’t Father pull Michael back too?”

“No! No one can find him,” Haniel exclaimed.

* * *

"What a stupid creature," Uriel’s voice said from the swirling center of the mass of wings and tentacles pinning Michael against the wall. “Lucifer was _God's_ gift to her? Hardly" He scoffed. "Now, let’s try this again,”

> A _gonizing pain shot through Lucifer’s mangled wings, worse even than the feel of being gutted, as he was ripped from the Infernal Plane. For a brief moment he saw the home he’d been cast from and absolute terror stole the breath from his chest:_ ‘They'll make me Fall again.’ _And the knowledge of betrayal hurt worse than the imminent physical death of his body. He struggled madly against his Father’s hold, heedless of the damage he was doing to his very soul in the process- And God let Lucifer go, allowing him to return to the Hell that now felt safer to him than the home he’d been cast out of._

“Stop running from the truth Mike: We sent Sam to Hell,” the maelstrom shouted with Uriel’s voice. Michael cringed away from the dozens of bladed wings beating around him. “We did that. Father tried to bring Sam home. He couldn’t, we did too much damage. Father DID NOT condone what we did.”

And Michael was standing in his Mother’s former quarters in Heaven.

> _“HE WAS YOUR BROTHER. HOW COULD YOU?” Mother’s voice was broken with sobs. “IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.”_
> 
> _“I didn’t know,” he protested. “We had to stop Sam, he couldn’t be allowed to defy Father. If he went on there’d be no ‘right’ anymore, I saw it! But Mother I didn’t see him burn. Why didn’t I know what I’d cause?”_
> 
> _And Mother’s light, which had always been warm and welcoming, scorched his skin as Her grief turned to fury in a moment. “I NEEDED LUCIFER YOU LITTLE BRAT. YOUR FATHER BETRAYED US, BETRAYED OUR PLAN, OUR FAMILY. HE WOULDN'T LISTEN TO ME, LUCIFER WAS GOING TO REMIND HIM OF WHAT IS AT STAKE. BUT YOU RUINED IT ALL! HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU? YOU SPOILED EVERYTHING!” He’d heard the others speak of how cruel Mother could be but he’d never experienced it before. It hurt, he’d never heard of Mother hurting any of the others._
> 
> _What had he done? He hadn’t meant for Sam to burn. Why hadn’t the pattern shown how badly Falling would hurt him? Was it Father’s will? He needed to know. He needed to know why. Had it been meant to happen? Was it necessary? Why hadn’t he known what would happen? He would have tried harder to talk Sam out of his insanity if he’d known. Why hadn’t he known? Didn’t Father trust them? He’d needed to know and there was no one he could talk to. Amenadiel and Michael were avoiding him and how could he talk to any of the others? How could he admit that he hadn’t seen the full pattern before they’d tried to put a stop to Samael’s seditious talk, he hadn’t_ seen _Samael’s Fall. Mother had been his last resort. But it hurt so much and she wasn’t stopping._
> 
> _Then there was a moment. Normally his parents’ patterns were too large, too overwhelming even for him to comprehend. But there was a flash and in that moment as his consciousness fled he understood that Mother had always had the capacity for violence against them, against her children, and She always would. He couldn’t read Her pattern, he would never know what would push Her over the edge until it was too late._
> 
> _His pattern was broken, failing. “mom, mom, please...”_
> 
> _He woke up in the abandoned garden, alone._
> 
> _“dad? … dad?”_
> 
> _The pattern there was perfect, unchanging, stagnant. He lost count of the days he spent wandering the garden as he slowly regained his strength._
> 
> _He called out to his Father over and over again and never received an answer._
> 
> _“Dad, Sam was disobeying you. Didn’t you want us to stop him?”_
> 
> _“Dad, the pattern. There was so much fighting if Sam wasn’t stopped. I tried telling him, I tried.”_
> 
> _“Dad, did I do something wrong?”_
> 
> _“Dad, what should I have done? Just, please tell me what I should have done.”_
> 
> _“Dad? Dad? Please… I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just talk to me, please.”_

Michael hung limply, pinned against the wall by the incomprehensible mass of wings and tentacles that was Uriel, tears ran down his face. “Now you know,” Uriel said cupping Michael’s cheek almost tenderly with one of his tentacles. “It’s all so different once you know the truth.”

> _He let himself into Samael’s rooms, one of the few quarters in the Silver City that still lacked doors._
> 
> _“Come to hear more about the sex?” Lucifer asked, grinning salaciously._
> 
> _“I’m here to ask you to stop,” he said. “Sam, please stop before this goes too far.”_
> 
> _Lucifer rolled his eyes, “How am I ‘going too far’ Uriel? I am simply asking why we shouldn’t be able to decide our Purpose for ourselves. You of all people should see it. There’s a pattern: First Mom and Dad made Amenadiel and he wasn’t a complete disaster so they popped out the Second Tier pretty much the same way. We were all made perfectly, exactly as we are today. Not even our hair grows. Perfect but so_ BORING _!”_
> 
> _And for the first time he thought about Lucifer cropping his hair short and even more alarmingly that he was beginning to grow a bit of scruff._
> 
> _Lucifer eyes lit up, “Yes, if I try hard enough I can will it to grow, like you and the rest of the Third Tier. Your hair and nails grow, your ages and forms change. Mother and Father created you with a Purpose in mind but, unlike us, they didn’t create you perfectly to fit that nitch. You shift naturally, unconsciously until you find the you that matches your Purpose. You weren’t created perfect and complete- I don’t mean that in a bad way, you’re much more interesting than those of us who came before. You were allowed to find your perfection rather than having it forced upon you._
> 
> _And now Father talked Mother into helping Him make the Mortals, they’re His children too, like us, like you but instead of giving themselves a Purpose that ultimately defines their form He gave them Free Will.” Lucifer’s eyes practically glowed with excitement. “Don’t you see Uriel? Father’s been improving on the original model, Amenadiel, all along. But I won’t be static just because He and Mother came up with me before they came up with Free Will. It exists now, so why shouldn’t I have it?”_
> 
> _“Samael!” Uriel interrupted. “Father made you, made all of us to serve His design. You can’t ignore that. You mustn’t question it. What I see Sam, is you opening the door to uncertainty. You’re unlocking Darkness in us! We’re safe, following Father’s plan but… You’ve seen demons Sam, Father sent you out into the middle world to bring Celestial Light to it and you’ve seen what lurks in the Dark. There’s Darkness in US Sam and questioning Father unlocks it. If Father can be wrong how can any of us know what’s right? We’ll fight Sam, with one another. We’ll hurt one another. If you create uncertainty we’ll never know what’s right again.”_
> 
> _“No!” Lucifer snapped. “Father is wrong to deny us this. As it stands there is certainty but certainty in FATHER, not in what is right. We know what Father says, we don’t know what is RIGHT, we don’t even THINK about what is right. We exist in limbo until Father hands out our Purposes and then the rest of our existence is dictated to us by that Purpose. We wait with baited breath to be given a chain to tie around our necks for all eternity.”_
> 
> _“Father gave you your Purpose,” Uriel realized. “And you don’t like it.”_
> 
> _“Father gave the Mortals such a wondrous gift,” Lucifer said sadly. “The right to choose their Purpose but Father would have me make it a trap. He wishes me to punish those Mortals who choose wrongly. I don’t want to do it.”_
> 
> _He took a moment-_ For a moment Michael could see the Universe through Uriel’s eyes, through the eyes of his gift. _-“There have to be consequences. Freedom without consequence is chaos, it would eventually unravel the Universe. Father made the Mortals free to choose but there has to be immediate consequences for bad choices, a reason to make good choices. A reason to turn from chaos because the unraveling of the Universe takes too long for anyone to notice until it’s too late to turn back.”_
> 
> _“But I like them,” Lucifer said mournfully._
> 
> _“You’ll be that consequence,” he realized._
> 
> _“And they’ll hate me,” Lucifer said._
> 
> _He couldn't say it wasn't true. “We can’t question Father’s plan.”_
> 
> _“I bloody well can!”_
> 
> _“Sam, please. I can’t let you do this,” he pled. “Father’s right there must be consequences, He made you to steer them away from chaos.”_
> 
> _“Why me?”_
> 
> _“I don’t know but it_ is _you,” he said. “Sam, if you won’t stop… I’ll have to make you stop. You can’t be allowed to upset Father’s plan.”_
> 
> _“Do what you must,” Lucifer said. He stood up and glared with fire in his eyes. “So will I. At least they’ll know I didn’t choose this, that I was forced into this loathsome role. Make me if you must but make no mistake: You WILL have to make me. I will never submit to this willingly. At least they’ll know I didn’t choose to be their consequence.”_

“We sent Lucifer to Hell. Then we lied and lied and lied about why he was there. We told everyone that he wanted to overthrow Father. That he hated the mortals. That he was jealous of them… And maybe he was jealous of the gift Father bestowed on them but he never hated them for what they were given.”

> _Beneath downy soft feathers his twin’s bones were straight and strong. He pulled and twisted until the bones popped out of joint, until the cracking of bones obscured Lucifer’s small choked gasp of shocked agony._
> 
> _Their siblings stared, shocked and confused as the four of them dragged Lucifer through the streets of the Silver City. Their parents were nowhere to be seen._

“We lied. To make it seem that only a depraved being, the source of all evil, would ever question Father. So that none would ever question Father again.” The thing Uriel had become giggled. “Father was right, Lucifer sent me into the Void and Father is right to do whatever must be done to keep us sheltered from it. I've seen the whole pattern now, I've seen what Father intended and I've seen where he lost his nerve. But even now, even I don't have an answer why it had to be Samael who was given the duty of being God’s Poison. Personally, I think you'll be the better choice Michael. You don't care about them. After what you did to your twin, can you really claim to care about anyone?”

> _“Samael, we’ll have no more of your nonsense,” Amenadiel said sternly. “Father commanded you to rule the Infernal Plane so rule it you shall, chained to your throne if you make it necessary.”_
> 
> _Lucifer could only kneel at their feet, his skin ashen, his breath coming in rapid pained gasps, his eyes hugely dilated with shock. Michael tried to stop himself but his body wasn’t his to command, he stepped forward and shoved his twin. Lucifer fell and a moment later they all saw him burst into flames as he Fell._

“Because we had no answer for him we lied. We lied to make what we did seem acceptable. We lied to steal the one concession Samael asked.

“We lied, Michael, and Samael burned.”

> _Beneath downy soft feathers his twin’s bones were straight and strong. He pulled and twisted until the bone popped out of joint, until the cracking of bones obscured Lucifer’s small choked gasp of shocked agony._


End file.
